


The Eleven Sacred Keys

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universes, Assassins, BAMF!Stiles, Battle, Deadpool - Freeform, Death, Detective, Fight Scenes, Goddesses, Gods, Homicide, Hunters, Kitsune, Monsters, Murder, Portals, Powerful Stiles, Private Investigator, Sex, Stiles Has Powers, Stiles has a gun, Stiles has magic, Telekinesis, There might be sex, Time Travel, Torture, Traveler - Freeform, War, Werewolf, Witch - Freeform, badass stiles, banshee - Freeform, but not too much, cases, hit list, ish, life - Freeform, like a lot, missing person, season 5, stiles has a girlfriend, stilesxOFC, supernatural Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's been two months since the Nameton grew in size and sent a burst of energy throughout the town, causing dozens of supernaturals to wander into Beacon Hills and leave a trail of bodies or missing person reports. But as Scott and the pack train and search for the monsters that found their town, they end up pushing Stiles aside in order for him to not get hurt.Somehow, Stiles managed to get himself kidnapped and tortured by a Siphoner, held hostage by a spell that prevents him from telling the pack, and forced to consider the idea that maybe - just maybe - he's not so human after all.Of course, after he and a beautiful, blue-eyed girl barely escape with their lives, the supernatural teens must face the aftermath of the events, as well as the new villains in search for the McCall pack.Including a mad scientist that somehow knows Stiles, and has a history with his mother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of Stiles getting kidnapped and under a spell is based off of the FanFiction story "The Blessed Unknown" by Fantasy Magic on FanFiction.net.   
> Written mostly in Stiles POV, but also as Scott and Kaia (my OC)  
> Kaia's full name is pronounced as [Kai-uh Kal-uh-cow-uh]

“We’ll do some practice rounds and mix it up a bit this time. Maybe Lydia with me, Liam with Kira, and Isaac with Malia? That way we can kind of get used to fighting different people.”

“Smart.” Lydia flashed a proud smile, “Are we still going to work with different weapons?”

“And how to escape a rope bond? Because it seems like getting kidnapped is a common problem for us.” Liam butted in, hands on his hips as if he was taking a stand.

“Uh, yeah.” Scott chuckled at Liam, unable to prevent the laughter that escaped his lips as he saw the young beta look like a pouting teenager. “We’ll do that. 6 pm still good?”

They all nodded and agreed, then soon muttered their goodbyes and started to head towards their homeroom classes as Stiles made his way towards the group.

“Training? Again?” He raised his eyebrow. He knew that ever since the Nameton reawakened and seemed to send out a blast of energy – Deaton’s words, not his – it was like announcing over a radio the location of supernatural headquarters. Now, werewolf packs and other beings were crawling into town and leaving a trail of dead bodies and missing person reports, and Scott and the pack have been either training or fighting non-stop. And now that the training has been getting more intense, Stiles has been left side-lined and alone. “Don’t you guys need a break?” He had to ask, partly because he was getting lonely, and partly because he was worried they were over-working themselves.

“What can I say?” Scott sighed, a hint of a groan in his voice as he gripped the strap of his backpack and started to walk to class with Stiles, “The monsters aren’t stopping, so neither are we. It’s our responsibility to—”

“Protect the town.” Stiles nodded as he finished his sentence. “When exactly did that become our responsibility?”

Scott sighed, opening his mouth to speak but closing it instead.

“I’m just saying.” Stiles raised his hands in defense, “Not too long ago, all we cared about was lacrosse, girls, and popularity. Next thing we know, we’re fighting monsters because of what? It’s our responsibility?” He scoffed, shaking his head. It wasn’t like he felt like they needed to just stop, but he didn’t understand how everything had to be life and death when they haven’t even turned eighteen yet. “It’s just…crazy, y’know? We were…we _are_ kids, and we’re spending our time as seniors saving these people’s asses.”

“Stiles—”

“I’m just saying.” He gave a little shrug, eyeing Stiles in a way that said _oh come on, you understand._ But instead of Scott nodding in agreement, he just sighed and shook his head.

“Right now, all we have is a couple of rogue pack of werewolves, and whatever the hell we are dealing with that is kidnapping and killing people around town. And the downside is, I have a feeling things are about to get even worse.”

“A feeling?” Stiles looked over at his best friend, his eyebrows raised in question, “So you’re psychic now?”

“No, man.” He shook his head again, “I’m telling you, it’s like when that Nameton sent that blast of energy, it’s like everything was stronger – including my _instincts,_ dude.”

“Is that an alpha thing? Or like, a general werewolf kind of thing?” Stiles genuinely wanted to know, but Scott just kind of shrugged as they walked into their Economics class with Coach. As seniors, it seemed like they couldn’t get away from classes with Coach Finstock. Only this time, it’s Money Management – which, Stiles still didn’t understand why _Coach-freaking-Finstock_ was teaching how to manage money when all he spent his paycheck on was booze. At least, he was pretty sure.

“I think it’s stronger because I’m an alpha.” Scott spoke in a quiet voice as they entered the room and found their seats, “Liam has been feeling it too. Isaac has been having nightmares and panic attacks. Lydia feels like she’s on the verge to scream twenty-four-seven, and Malia is constantly on edge, losing control of her abilities, sleeping in dark corners and basically is building forts for protection, or something.” He shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips as Stiles watched the worry that was evident on his face as he glanced over his shoulder, “I don’t know, man. Something is happening. Something is _coming_. So yeah, we’re training every day and keeping our eyes peeled. For once, I would like to get ahead of the bad before it turns…really bad.”

“OK – you ended that poorly, brother.” Stiles said, patting Scott’s shoulder as he was sitting behind him, “But I get it. Just don’t over-work yourself, you’ll end up being too tired to fight evil, y’know?” He raised an eyebrow at him, even though he couldn’t see, “Or, you’ll be so focused on training, the evil will just slip between your fingertips.”

“OK, I get it, Stiles,” Scott said, shaking his head as the bell rang and in came the Coach. They stayed silent as they listened to him talk about Chapter Four and kept getting off track as he talked about the lacrosse team, an upcoming game, and then something about finally having an athletic trainer which was a surprise because Stiles was pretty sure they didn’t even have an athletic trainers program here. But, at least they had somewhere to go when they are injured. Which, in Stiles case, happened a lot.

Soon, the bell finally rang and everyone was jumping up and running out of the classroom as if it was on fire, but Scott and Stiles just sighed as they gathered their things and started to head out.

“So I think that maybe we should study more of the common supernaturals, too. I mean, fighting is important, sure, but with the Nameton basically blowing up, we’re going to be facing beings that we have never faced before. Don’t you think we should prepare?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea.” Scott shrugged, “But the bestiary is in Latin, and we don’t exactly have time to translate all of it.”

“Well, I did a lot of research.” Stiles smirked as if proud of his little accomplishments, “I can bring it tonight—”

“Wait, what?” Scott stopped suddenly in the hallway, looking around for a moment before pulling him aside towards the lockers and out of the way, “Stiles, I love you, man, but we’re going to be kicking it up a notch tonight. So—”

“So, you think I shouldn’t come?” He raised an eyebrow, only a hint of surprise showing on his face, “Again?” The last word that fell from his lips mimicked the sudden hurt he was feeling, but he tried to bury it. He understood – he wanted to yell at him, but he _understood._ But what Scott _didn’t_ understand was that even though he was only human, he made up for it by coming up with the plans and the research, and knowledge was power. Knowledge saved lives, and yet now, for once since Scott was bitten, he was starting to feel a little left out.

Okay, so a lot. But he wasn’t going to show that.

“It’s just…” Scott trailed off, trying to find the right way to say this, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t get in the way, Scott—”

“But you don’t know that.” He heaved a sigh, looking as if he honestly didn’t want to have this conversation, “And we’re all losing grip on our abilities, Stiles. So, yeah, I think it’s best if you just sit this one out. You’re only human.”

 _Your only human?_ Stiles couldn’t speak. He just stared at him in shock, hiding the anger that he was feeling. But he wanted to scream. He wanted to yell at his best friend and tell him he was being an inconsiderate jackass, but he couldn’t. So he just stood there and watched as Scott seemed to wait for him to say anything, but when he didn’t he sighed, turned around, and continued walking.

“Is this about Donovan?” Stiles finally choked out. It was the lump that sat in his throat, the words that he couldn’t seem to bring up before. But he had to know. He had to ask Scott if he was just afraid of what he was turning into. Of _him_ turning into a killer – first the Nogitsune, and then Donovan. And he felt guilty, yes, but he also had this anger, this rage, that he couldn’t seem to expel. It was like poison running through his veins, and he felt too god damn guilty to ask for help.

It wasn’t like he wanted to kill. He didn’t. And the guilt that he felt was more like second-hand guilt. Guilt for not feeling guilty, because he knew, deep down, that it was self-defense. He knew that it was necessary because if he didn’t, a lot more bad would have come out of it.

“Is this about Donovan?” He asked again, taking a step forward towards his best friend and watching his face twist into one of guilt and shame. “Is this because your worried that if I’m alongside you with whatever we fight – even though I’ve been alongside you _every time_ , that I would kill again? That even though _that_ was self-defense, that I was shoot first and ask questions later? Because I, what, I’m _human?_ That I can’t last long enough to find a way to capture, instead of kill?”

“Stiles, that’s—”

“Don’t tell me that’s not it.” He spat, that anger returning and hitting him like a tidal wave. “Don’t tell me that. I know you said you understood, that you forgave me, but for some reason lately, that’s changed. For some reason, lately, it seems like the reason you don’t want me around is that you’re afraid of what _I will do,_ and not because you think I will get hurt.”

“I just – we can’t keep worrying about you when we're in a fight, Stiles.” He ignored everything that Stiles said, and it made him huff in frustration as he shook his head, “I can’t keep putting my pack’s lives in danger because we’re focused on you.”

“Since when have you been so focused on me? Every time I’ve been out with you, I’ve held my ground, believe it or not! Sure, I only have a bat and maybe some wolf’s bane, and yes – maybe _sometimes_ things didn’t turn out as planned for me, but we’ve always made it! Together!” He huffed as he finished, but then his eyebrows furrowed together as he realized something, “And what do you mean ‘ _my pack’?_ What, am I not in it anymore? Because I don’t have super-wolfy-powers?”

Scott rolled his eyes, “I didn’t mean that.” He continued, “And I just mean that maybe you help us with the plans and the research, but—”

“But other than that, stay out of the way?” He raised an eyebrow, anger dripping from his words, “I’m the Robin to your Batman? Because honestly, it feels like you’re kicking Robin out, buddy. Like you want to declare that it’s too dangerous for me, even though that’s _my_ choice.”

“Stiles—” Scott started, but he stopped, shaking his head as a sigh escaped his lips, “I have to go to class.” He said instead, turning around and walking away. Stiles just stood there, watching as he headed to class and didn’t say a word. He had opened his mouth to speak, to tell him that he was a complete and utter idiot, but the words never came out, and he honestly couldn’t think over how loud his heart was beating.

“Damn it.” Stiles finally mumbled as Scott walked out of view, and he cursed under his breath again as he turned around and started to head to class, the hallway already having been nearly empty. But, he wasn’t even sure if he could focus. Not when all he could think about was that fight – and the feeling like it wasn’t the first. Like it would take a couple tries and a battle to actually get through to him.

He loved Scott – he did – but sometimes, he just wanted to punch him in the throat.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

As Stiles walked into his second-period class and saw Malia check her phone and leave, he knew that something happened. Maybe it was another body, another kidnapping, or maybe it was just a scare. He wasn’t sure – all he knew was that werewolf packs have been coming around, and only a few of them have actually been leaving. Plus, there was the fact that there was obviously some other types of supernaturals, but Scott seems to be adamant to keep him in the dark. As if the dark was actually the safest place to be.

So now, Stiles was left all alone in English class, and he was pretty certain that today was the day they were picking partners for some project. Obviously, though, he was going to have to be left alone until the teacher picked a partner for him, which only makes him feel more alone, uncomfortable, and quite frankly – embarrassed.

Still, there was nothing for him to do, so he just quietly found his seat and sighed as he sank deeper into the chair. He knew that it was now going to be an uneventful day, and he suddenly wondered if the pack would be around for lunch. Because leaving him alone at the lunch table was going to make him feel even more lonely, and he wasn’t prepared for such emotions.

As Stiles started to pull out his notebook and pencil, he could hear the clicking of heels from the hallway that soon made its’ way towards the classroom. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, knowing that Mrs. White didn’t even wear heels, then watched as a pretty brunette dressed in a power suit and pencil skirt walked in.

Everyone’s head shot up, a smile already forming on their face – partly because it seemed like they were getting a substitute, and partly because the teacher was hot. She had long, straight, brown hair that bounced with energy step, and green eyes so bright it could light a room. Her skin was a natural tan that made her glow, and her smile, which was coated with red lipstick, formed upwards in a thin line. She was also tall, which seemed to make her look like some super-model. Plus, she was young. Like, maybe in her early or mid 20’s, as if she was still in college.

“Hello, class.” She spoke with a cheerful voice as if this was her first time teaching and she was beyond excited, “My name is Miss. Grant. Mrs. White will be out, possibly for a few weeks, for a family emergency so I will be your substitute.”

The class practically erupted into cheers of relief, but the hot young substitute just shook her head as if ashamed, “Now, now,” She said, and it was weird hearing those words coming out of such a young woman. She spoke like she was older – perfectly articulate, and a little too formal. “Let’s settle down. I see on the syllabus you are working on a project, today. So, go ahead and start pairing up. I’ll give you two minutes.”

Stiles sighed, then watched as everyone jumped up to find their friends while he just sat there and looked around awkwardly. He was about to ask the teacher if he could just partner up with a classmate that wasn’t here today, but then his eyes stopped on a girl he’s never seen before.

“Hey,” He said to her, edging closer as he awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Are you new?”

“Uh, yeah.” She blushed as she looked up at him, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. Her eyes were a bright blue, and they were almost hypnotizing. “I just started today.”

He nodded, “Uh, well, do you want to be partners?”

She gave a small smile, but there seemed to be a sadness behind it. Like she was lonely.

“Sure.” She shrugged nonchalantly, getting up as he sat back down in his seat and she sat next to him.

“What’s your name?”

“Kaia. You?”

“Stiles.”

“That’s a…unique name. I like it.” She leaned forward, her mouth opening and then closing as if there was something she wanted to say, but instead she looked down shyly and stayed silent.

“Thanks.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, and eventually, they grew quiet as Miss. Grant started to hand out the assignment as she talked about how they were going to do a project on random topics that would be provided to them. As she finished, she then walked around with a bag of topics for each group to choose from, and eventually, she got to them as Stiles pulled out a tiny, folded, piece of paper.

“The Cunningham Institute.” He frowned, “I don’t even know where that is.”

“It’s in Seven Lakes just outside of Beacon Hills. Only about a thirty to forty-minute drive from here.” Kaia replied, watching Stiles look at her and raised his eyebrows. She just shrugged, “I, uh, been to Seven Lakes before. I just recognized the name.”

“Ah.” He nodded, but he didn’t judge her. He’s been to Eichen house, although that place is a nightmare, so he kind of understood. “Well, what is there to even research? I mean unless they secretly experiment on the patients to try to create super-humans.” He chuckled, only partly joking, yet he watched as the new girl sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“You have no idea.” She mumbled under her breath. It was so quiet that he almost didn’t hear – but he did, and his heart actually skipped a beat as he wondered if she was serious. If The Cunningham Institute was just like Eichen House, and it experimented and tortured supernatural beings, and if that meant the new girl actually knew about the supernatural. He only wished Malia was in class so he could ask if she smelled human – which was a weird thing to ask – but she wasn’t. And neither was anyone else.

But Stiles had no way of asking if she knew about the supernatural, and he had no idea how to even hint it. His curiosity was getting the best of him, and patience really wasn’t his strong suit. He wanted to just blurt it out and ask her, but he also knew he risked sounding like a lunatic and her, possibly lying, and saying that she doesn’t know a thing.

So, he just sighed, and they awkwardly spent the rest of the period researching, creating outlines, answering project questions, and thinking how they want to design it on powerpoint. Eventually, the bell finally rang, and they started to gather their things.

“Do you think I can get your number? So, we can text about the project?”

“Yeah,” She said nonchalantly, then started to spit out her digits as he entered them into his phone. He couldn’t help but notice that the area code was different from what he’s used to, and he was a little curious where she was actually from. But, instead of asking, Stiles just smiled at her as they then went their separate ways.

The rest of the day seemed to go by in a blur, and finally, Scott and the pack were back in school by Sixth period, which Miss. Grant also seemed to be substituting. It seemed that when a worker that was coming to the school to fill up the vending machines, he ended up being attacked by some rogue, ‘rabid-looking’, werewolf, so Scott and the others had tracked it down. Even Lydia who couldn’t catch a werewolf’s scent yet seemed to be able to follow a trail because the werewolf had an energy that was fading fast and seemed ‘close to death’, which in all honestly, just sounded creepy.

Still, Stiles stayed quiet as Malia filled him in, and it seemed like he couldn’t even get the truth out of Scott. It was as if he just wanted him to stay out of it and return to a normal life, but Stiles didn’t know how to explain that he just… _couldn’t._ Not when he knows about the supernatural world. Even if he did, it just wouldn’t feel right. In a way, Stiles actually liked the supernatural world – minus the bloodshed and killings, of course. But nevertheless, he liked being apart of it. He just didn’t know how to explain that to Scott, or the others who seemed to keep pushing him away.

He never even really talked to Scott. Not after the fight, at least. Even though the anger was starting to fade, it was still there – buried underneath all the embarrassment, loneliness, and other feelings he would rather not share. He just kept quiet and tried to pretend like everything was fine. It was easier that way, even though as Scott and he started lacrosse practice, it was starting to feel harder, too. The silence was just unbearable.

“So, did you see the new athletic trainer?” Isaac broke the tension, looking over at the bleachers and giving a stupid little smirk. Stiles furrowed his eyebrows a little, forgetting that they even had an athletic trainer, before following his gaze to the girl sitting down with a maroon bag and a jacket that said, ‘ATHLETIC TRAINER LEAD’. He couldn’t help but recognize her from English class.

“Yeah, that’s Kaia.” Stiles said in surprise, “She’s new. She’s in my English class.”

“She’s hot.” Was all Isaac noticed, making Stiles roll his eyes even though that was kind of the first thing he thought of too.

“When did she move here?”

“I don’t know, but she just started today.” Stiles shrugged, glancing at her again and seeing that she looked pretty bored, “There was something that she said in class, though. I think she might know about the supernatural. Can you tell?” He looked at Scott and raised an eyebrow, wondering if Scott would even tell him the truth. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to push him out completely, or if he just wanted him away from the fighting – he just hoped that it wasn’t the first one.

“I don’t know…she smells weird.”

“Weird?” Stiles questioned, “Like human weird, or supernatural weird?”

“Like, I don’t know weird, Stiles.” Scott sighed, eyeing his friend before looking back at the girl, “But if she just came to town, I wouldn’t be surprised given what just happened with the Nameton.”

“Great.” Isaac sighed, his hands resting on his hips, “We should find out what she is, at least. I mean, if she came into town around the same time bodies started dropping—”

“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa—” Stiles started, hands raised in the air for Isaac to stop, “She was in class with me while you guys were running around. I’m pretty sure she’s innocent.”

“We don’t know that.” Isaac said, “Not really, at least. She could be dangerous.”

“Maybe.” Stiles wasn’t going to pretend like she wasn’t, “But what are we going to do, huh? Corner her and ask her what she is? So far she hasn’t given us a reason to.”

“It’s different when the town’s population is dropping fast.” Isaac glared at Stiles as if he wouldn’t understand, and he couldn’t help but feel a little angry, but he just huffed and looked over at Scott’s face that mirrored Isaac’s.

“Seriously?” He mumbled under his breath, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. His hands were on his hips, but only because he was trying to hold himself back from punching the werewolf in the throat. Honestly, he was getting tired of this. This behavior of Scott and the pack seemed to come out of nowhere a week ago, and he was just…tired.

“Innocent until proven guilty.” He continued to argue, “You know, you tell yourselves that you’re protecting the town and the people you care about, but when really it looks like you’re trying to _control_ it. Don’t be that asshole. Don’t be Deucalion or Peter or Theo, because that’s what you guys are becoming.” He shook his head and scoffed just as Coach blew the whistle and everyone started to run laps, “I mean, seriously.” He had nothing else to add, and the anger that was coursing through his veins was making him unable to think clearly. All he knew was that he was angry – and he wanted them to know. He wanted them to know that leaving him in the dark might just as well put him in danger, but they didn’t see that. They didn’t see that it was the _humans_ – the innocent, unknowing, humans that got mauled to death. Not the people that knew what goes bump in the night.

But he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think clearly. All he could feel was the anger, and he had a feeling Scott could sense it – smell it, really. He had a feeling he was just adding fuel to the fire because his anger might just as well be the reason he was pushing him away.

But he didn’t care. At least, not at the moment. So he just turned and left, and started to run laps, letting the anger push him further and faster than he’d normally go, because yeah – he was pissed. He was pissed at his best friend for acting more like a dictator than a friend, and he was mad that he felt like all of his nightmares were coming true. That maybe Scott and everyone weren’t going to be with him after high school. Maybe this will repeat after they graduate, and they’ll leave him all alone. Maybe he’ll be all alone, and he’ll try to live his life by going to FBI school or something, and even though he’ll know what he knows now, he’ll still feel lost. Because…he won’t have someone to talk to about it. He won’t have someone to rant off of when he thinks a case is actually from a werewolf, or who else knows what.

He’ll just be…by himself. Pack-less. An omega, even if he technically is just human. Because once he’s been apart of a pack, it’s like he can’t… _not_ be apart of a pack. He can’t be alone.

He wanted to scream at Scott for being an idiot. He wanted to yell at the pack for following his lead and believing that pushing him away is the right thing to do. He wanted to ask if they noticed the hurt in his eyes, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because admitting it also brought embarrassment, and he really didn’t like that particular emotion.

So he just ran. He ran and ran, no matter how tired he was. The anger just fueled him, even though it definitely wasn’t healthy, but he kept going. He didn’t even notice how many times the pack - if he really was apart of it still – ran past him. He didn’t care. At least, not until Jackson-freaking-Whittemore practically ran full speed into him and knocked him down.

“Watch it!” He spat out. He didn’t mean to – anger usually isn’t the first thing that comes out when he falls or trips – but he couldn’t help himself. He was still just brooding over the fact that Scott was being an asshole.

“What did you say?” Jackson spat, his eyes flashing for a moment as he glared daggers at him from above.

Stiles huffed, “I said—” He started, but then the pain that spread through his lower right abdomen caught the words in his throat and instead came out a groan and a grimace in pain.

“Watch your mouth, Stilinski.” Jackson spat out, turning away and disappearing into the group.

Stiles rolled his eyes, anger still raging inside of him for not saying anything, but as he tried to sit up all he could feel was pain. Like someone was holding onto an organ and squeezing it.

“Out of the way.” He heard a familiar voice order before kneeling beside him. He blushed, seeing the girl from his English class – Kaia – kneel down and press down gently on his lower right side.

Immediately, he grimaced.

“That hurts?”

“Yes.” He choked out through his teeth. She nodded in response, and Stiles could feel himself growing hot with embarrassment as people started to notice he was down.

“It’s not too serious. Let me just fix you up in the office.”

“Do I—”

“Yes, Stiles.” She demanded, sounding more like a mom telling her child what to do, “Let me help you up.”

“Stiles – you OK?” He heard Scott say, and he tried not to roll his eyes. He really tried – but seriously? Was he asking that _now_?

“M’fine.” He slurred through the pain. Shouldn’t it be going away now? All he did was fall. Sure, he landed on his side pretty hard, but he didn’t think it was _that_ hard. Not hard enough for something to seriously be wrong, and yet this pain didn’t feel like a bruise. _Jesus, why was he so weak?_

“You got it?” Kaia asked, holding onto him and helping him walk. His face flushed once again with embarrassment, knowing everyone was watching, but he nodded and lied as he started to walk on his own. Still, Kaia gripped his arm tight, even though the pain was fading fast.

Soon, they made it to the athletic trainer’s office. She set him down on the cot, and he breathed out a sigh of relief, but as she stood up the pain hit him full force and he leaned back with a groan.

“Son of a bitch.”

“You’ll be fine.” She assured, walking to the door, closing it, and locking it. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what that was about, but he was too focused on the squeezing in his side.

He listened as she started to open cabinets and her duffel bag, pulling out bandages, tape, a large paintbrush-looking thing, and a jar filled with _glowing_ blue liquid.

“Um…what is that?” He was curious. It looked more like some witchy stuff versus some painkillers.

“It’s a topical medication that will relieve the pain and heal you.” She answered though Stiles didn’t know if he believed her. He didn’t know what kind of topical solution glowed like a glue stick, and he was starting to wonder if she really was an innocent supernatural – if she was one at all. Which, right now, he was ninety-percent certain that she was. Still, he could feel his heart pound in his chest as he wondered whether or not to trust her. Either she was right, and that blue liquid really was going to magically heal him – emphasis on magic – or that was going to do something entirely different.

But he didn’t move as she walked closer and ordered him to take off his shirt. He tried, grimacing as it shot another wave of pain throughout his body, and instead, she started to take it off for him, which only added to his embarrassment. Her hands seemed to slowly brush against his chest until she blushed and awkwardly pulled the shirt over his head, setting it aside on the cot.

When he looked up at her, though, she didn’t look embarrassed. She just gave a small smile, then grabbed the jar and the paintbrush, eyeing his side as if there was a cut that he couldn’t see.

“This might feel weird.” She stated, then started to spread the liquid on him. It was thinner than he thought but only slightly thicker than water. Like it was something watered down, and yet it seemed to be concentrated somehow. He didn’t know how to explain it.

As the solution touched his skin, he could feel a spark of electricity rush through his body. It sent weird waves of energy, and he curled and uncurled his fingers as if trying to get used to it.

“That feels…oddly kind of good.” He replied, the pain slowly fading, “That’s…fast.”

She gave a proud smile as if this solution was her invention, “It works wonders with all kinds of injuries.” She smiled at him before looking back down, and once she finished putting enough on him – which was about one-fourth of the jar – she started to bandage him up.

“Does the school even know about you using that?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask. He had a feeling – given that the liquid was in a jar and had no name – that it wasn’t.  “I mean, it’s OK if it's not. But it’s not going to have some weird side effects, right?”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she finished bandaging him up, then stood and started to close the jar tight, “No side effects. And no, they don’t know. It’s…homemade.”

“Homemade.” He repeated to himself, furrowing his eyebrows once again at her, “May I ask--?”

“No.” She said bluntly, and he stared at her in shock, but she just gave a small chuckle as she placed the jar in her duffel bag, “It is kind of a…secret family recipe.” She said cryptically, “and no, I’m not a witch.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, but then he started to laugh awkwardly and loudly. At first, he thought _she_ knew that _he_ knew about the supernatural world, but then he realized that maybe a lot of people ask her that. Given that…well, it looked like some witch’s potion.

“I-I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.” She zipped the duffel bag, then leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. She eyed him carefully, then opened her mouth and asked with sudden hoarseness in her voice, “Can I…” She cleared her throat, “I need to tell you something.”

“Sure.” He trailed off for a moment, feeling a little uncomfortable as she stared at him with a sad look in her eyes. He didn’t notice it before – but he could now see a longing as if she wanted so desperately to tell him something but shouldn’t.

“The new substitute teachers. Miss. and Mr. Grant?” He raised an eyebrow as she paused, her lips suddenly drying out as she licked them slowly, then opened and closed her mouth like a fish. She gulped as if her throat was suddenly losing its’ ability to work, but eventually she was able to form some words.

“They…they aren’t…” Her mouth kept opening and then closing, and she cleared her throat again. It was suddenly almost painful to watch, and Stiles wanted so desperately to help her, or just to tell her to stop. He felt embarrassed for her – he knew how she felt. He was the poster boy for tripping over his own words.

Still, he sat still and tried his best to listen.

“I—” She cleared her throat once again, but this time it started to turn into coughs that began to turn violent. Stiles’ eyes widened, shooting up and surprised pain hasn’t shot through his body as well, and he found himself next to her with his hand on her back.

“Are you OK?”

She nodded, but she wasn’t fine. She obviously wasn’t fine, but he didn’t know what to do. _She_ was the athletic trainer, and there wasn’t even a nurse on campus anymore, given that school was over.

“Please…” He didn’t understand what she was trying to say, but he could see tears welling up in her eyes and yet unable to escape. He didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure what was going on – was she choking? Was she having an asthma attack? A panic attack?

“Just breathe, okay?” He tried, but he had no idea what to do. Being on the other end of a panic attack was terrifying. Watching the person struggle to breathe as panic flooded their bodies, weakening their muscles, and making them feel paralyzed. Watching was the worst part – and yet not knowing what to do. He suddenly felt sorry for his dad and Scott.

“Supernatural…” She managed to get out, sucking in the air even though it sounded like air sucking into a narrow pipe. Like her throat was closing in on her, and she continued to gasp and cough as her knees grew weak and he caught her. He lowered her down to the ground and she leaned against the cabinets, holding onto the counter for dear life. “Pain…”

“You’re in pain?” His eyes widened. He wasn’t sure what was happening, or how it involved the supernatural. This attack happened so fast, and he had absolutely no idea to do. “I’ll go get a teacher—”

“No.” She spoke so fast, so harshly, and grabbed his wrist with strength a teenage girl shouldn’t have. She looked into his eyes, her bright blue hypnotizing eyes, that filled with pain and sorrow and desperation, but then they lit up with an idea, and she used her other hand and waved it around as if asking to write something down.

“Pen? Oh – pen!” He felt like he was playing charades as he jumped up and eyed the room, finally spotting a pad and a pen before leaning down and handing it to her. She grabbed it, her hands shaking and tears suddenly streaming down her face as she breathed heavily in a panic.

All she wrote was the letter ‘S’ before she dropped the pad as if it burned, her hands shaking and her skin hot to the touch.

“Hey, hey, it’s OK.” He gulped, deciding that playing 20 questions was the best way to go. “Do you want me to call 911?”

She shook her head no, gulping again as if her mouth was dry and filled with cotton.

“OK…what…uh, is this an asthma attack?”

Again, she shook her head no.

“Panic attack?”

She repeated, looking more annoyed and desperate as he asked more questions, but eventually she leaned her head back against the counters and closed her eyes, a single tear escaping.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He hated seeing her like this. He hated having no idea what was going on – because if it wasn’t an asthma attack or panic attack, he was fresh out of ideas. And for some reason, she didn’t want a teacher or a medic, and she didn’t seem to want anybody else to see her like this but him.

“Just breathe. In and out, okay?” He tried to tell her. The truth was, he had no idea what to say. “Okay? Just…just breathe and tell me what’s wrong.”

She did as he told her, breathing in and out slowly, and she looked like she was concentrating hard on what to say next. As if she only had the strength to say one, two, or even three words at max, and she needed to figure out the best way to get her point across.

“bodies.” She mumbled almost incoherently.

He furrowed his eyebrows at her, “Bodies?” He questioned her, but his eyes widened as he realized that maybe this was something bigger than a panic attack. Of course, it still didn’t make a lick of sense. “Wait…dead bodies?”

She nodded ‘yes’, and for the first time since she was…well, whatever she’s been doing, she looked hopeful.

“What about dead bodies?” He asked, “Were they murdered?”

She licked her lips, nodding her head even though it now looked painful. He couldn’t help but cringe at the sight, sweat now dancing down her forehead as she breathed in and out at a fast pace. It was like she was suddenly caught with an illness, and he was certain she was on the verge of fainting.

“How does this have to do with…” Stiles trailed off for a moment, “Is Miss. and Mr. Grant in trouble?”

She shook her head and now came his next question.

“They…did they…?”

She nodded, but this time leaned over and suddenly began to hurl. His eyes widened as he pulled her hair back, feeling how hot her skin was.

“Oh, god, you’re burning up.” He was starting to panic, but even as she was puking her guts out – with little bits of blood, by the way – she still shook her head and tried to speak.

But the next word out of her mouth was not just unexpected, but quite terrifying.

“Run.”

His eyes had widened and his heart had skipped a beat as he stood there, speechless and frozen, unsure what to do. He knew that he should listen – deep down, he knew – but he couldn’t just leave her. Not like this.

“N-now.” She lost her energy as she collapsed to the floor, and he surprised himself as he jumped up, took a step back, and ran into the chair as he almost fell. He didn’t know why, but he was starting to panic. More so than usual, even though he’s faced werewolves and dread doctors and true horror.

But this? This was scary in a whole new way. This was scary because she seemed to be serious, and he watched as she tried so desperately to tell her something, it made her look like she was at Death’s door. Like someone was preventing her from telling the truth.

And suddenly, he was wondering if he’s next. If that was why she told him to run, and even though his mind was telling him to help her, every bone in his body was telling him to run.

“I’ll be…I’ll be back.” He assured, and he opened the door and started to run. His eyes wide and his heart skipping beats, until he found Scott, Isaac, and Kira all standing together by the bleachers.

“Scott! Scott!” He tried not to panic – he really did – but he couldn’t help himself. He had no idea how to explain this situation to him, and all he really had were theories.

With…a lot of holes in them.

“Dude – are you OK? You looked like you got hit pretty bad.”

“Never mind that, dude.” He waved his arms around, trying to get him to listen, “The new girl – Kaia – just told me that Mrs. and Mr. Grant _killed_ somebody. Like, multiple somebodies. But it was like she couldn’t talk, and now something happened and she’s passed out on the floor.”

“What new girl?” Isaac looked at him oddly, and Stiles glared at him like he grew a second head.

“The athletic trainer.”

“Stiles, we don’t have an athletic trainer. Haven’t in years, man.”

Stiles was quiet as he opened his mouth and closed it like a fish. Were they serious?

“Dude…the _new girl._ ” He continued, “She’s in like a couple of our classes – OK, well, not like you were in school…” He trailed off for a moment, his eyebrows still scrunched together in confusion, “Are you serious, right now?” He asked, “We were just talking about her during stretch-time.”

“OK, whatever painkiller the nurse gave you or you found, must be strong.” Isaac chuckled, shaking his head then patting Scott’s shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight, Scott.”

“You too.” He replied, completely ignoring Stiles. He didn’t understand.

How could they forget?

“Would you just come with me, then?” He asked instead, “She’s hurt! And did you not hear what I said?” He just looked at his best friend like he was insane – totally and truly insane – “Miss. and Mr. Grant killed someone!”

“I don’t know who those people are.” Scott now seemed a little more serious – as if not expecting this ‘joke’ of his to last this long, “What are you talking about, Stiles?”

“The substitute teachers.” He answered, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest, “Scott…” He gulped, and now he was starting to feel like _he_ was the one having a panic attack. “Kira…you…you remember, right?”

She shook her head slowly, looking up at him in concern. “Sorry, Stiles,” She said innocently, “I don’t remember any substitute teacher or any new girl.”

“Well then…would you at least let me show you?” He started to walk back, seeing Kira and Scott look at each other in worry before they hesitantly agreed. He almost sighed with relief as he started in a light jog with Scott and Kira following, leading the way to the athletic trainer’s office.

But when he got to the door, he stopped, surprised to see it empty. Kaia’s bags weren’t even there – or the puke she had left behind. It was like it never happened, and instead of anyone remembering a new athletic trainer, this was just an old room that players went to when they were injured in games. They were only to be bandaged up by other players or students instead of a qualified professional, or even an athletic trainer who was just simply studying the medical field.

“Stiles…maybe I should drop you off.”

“No.” He said quickly. He wasn’t sure what was happening – but something was definitely off. This was definitely _not_ normal, and _not_ in his head.

“I have to go.” He turned around and started to run back to the field to grab his stuff, not even looking at Scott in the eye. He couldn’t. He was freaking out too much to look at him.

He just needed to get in his car, go home, freak out, and then find out what the hell just happened. What kind of supernatural could do this? And why – if it was really true – did Miss. and Mr. Grant kill people? And how was the new girl involved? Why wasn’t she able to talk?

He gulped as he tried to think, his head suddenly throbbing as he tried to wrap his head around what he just went through. But he couldn’t seem to think clearly, so he just grabbed his stuff and started heading towards his Jeep as fast as humanly possible.

When he got in, he almost sighed with relief for being alone – for once _wanting_ to be alone – and then pulled his phone out as he quickly dialed Deaton. He couldn’t help but peek under his shirt to look at the bandages that were still there, reassuring him that he hasn’t lost his mind.

“Stiles? Everything OK?”

“No.” He spoke in a shaky breath. He wasn’t sure if it was noticeable, but he didn’t care. He just needed answers. “What kind of supernatural can make someone forget things? Uh, well, more like…forget a _person._ Or… _persons._ ”

“A couple things.” Deaton tried to think, and Stiles really didn’t like that answer. “Is there anything else? A way to narrow things down? What happened?”

He didn’t expect Deaton to ask so many questions, given how cryptic _he_ was, but for once Stiles was actually a little relieved.

“There was a new girl today. Her name was Kaia, and today was her first day at school and she was an athletic trainer—”

“I thought your school didn’t have an athletic trainer’s program?”

“That’s not important right now.” He rolled his eyes. How did Deaton even know that? “I had her in English class, and I could’ve sworn she was supernatural. So, during practice, I was talking about her with Scott, Isaac, and Liam, and they were going to look into it. But then I got injured—”

“Are you OK?”

“Will you shut up for _one_ moment?”

“Sorry.” He apologized, which was something he never actually heard him say.

He huffed.

“Kaia, the athletic trainer, then took me to the trainer’s office and put some weird glowing stuff on me that took the pain away, which only added to my belief that she was supernatural, too. But then she said she needed to tell me something about the two new substitute teachers – Mr. and Miss. Grant, but it was like…she couldn’t get the words out. The more she tried, the more she got sick-looking. She was coughing, struggling to breathe, burning up, then she collapsed and started to puke. She told me to run – so I ran to Scott, but by the time I got there, everyone was saying they don’t remember a new girl, or a substitute, or anything! Then I got back to the office, and she was gone! With all her stuff! I mean…what can do that? Please tell me you don’t think I’m crazy…”

“I don’t.” Deaton said simply after his long rant, and those two simple words made Stiles feel like he could breathe again, “I would have to do some more research, but so far from what you told me, the only two things that I know of that can erase the memories of large groups, disappear that quickly, and…did the room look different at all? The athletic trainer’s office has been remodeled, right?”

“The only thing that was different was the lights.” He thought back, “They weren’t flickering anymore. But when I came back for her—”

“It went back to the way it was before?” Deaton finished, “Then there actually are three things that can do that, from what I remember: A Witch, a Ghost Rider, or a God or Goddess, which usually hunt in pairs – and usually is a man and a woman. It depends on their motives what kind of Gods they are – it could be pagan gods, forest gods, and so forth.”

Stiles gulped. Witches, Ghost Riders, and Gods? His head felt like it was spinning.

“OK. So, what would go after supernaturals?” He wondered, then realized that he wasn’t actually sure if that was what they were after. Maybe this new girl just got in the way. Who even knows how many times she’s played the new girl – how many times did _he_ forget, and now she finally got through to her? “If I find the motive, it will show me what they are most likely, right?”

“Correct.” Deaton answered, “Witches usually hunt for ingredients, Gods usually eat humans but not supernaturals, and Ghost Riders don’t have any particular victimology. They hunt until the town gets wiped off the map.”

“That’s comforting.” He mumbled under his breath, looking out the window again to see Scott and the others start running towards the woods and leaving their stuff behind. His eyebrows scrunched together as he wondered what happened, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do. He sighed. “So, witches hunt to harvest organs and whatnot for their ingredients, but is there anything special about a supernaturals…parts?”

“Yes, it can be. Usually, it takes a lot to control the power of spells that use the parts of a supernatural, but with the Nameton re-awakening, it is possible that only a pair of witches can find a way to harvest that energy. But I must tell you, witches usually are in covens of three or more. Not two.”

“So be careful, then.” He frowned, “OK, what can you tell me about weaknesses? Of Witches, Gods, and Ghost Riders? Just in case.”

“For Witches, Iron is a poor conductor of magic. So, if you wear Iron, it will be harder for a witch to cast spells on you. Of course, it’s still possible they attack and take the iron off, too…” He trailed off a moment as if trying to think, “And Witches can be killed by burning them or bombarding them with so much energy they explode. And even then, you must douse their body with salt and burn their bones so they don’t come back as a vengeful spirit – since witches are known to.”

Well, that was just _great._

“As for Gods and Goddesses, you can kill them by cutting off their head. And for Ghost Riders…well, those things haven’t been around in a long, long, time. I’m not particularly sure how to get rid of them – but I do know that they travel in groups. More like armies. I’ll send you as much information as I can.”

“OK. Is there any way where I _don’t_ have to kill?” Stiles’ voice got high, unable to hide the fear that was leaking out of every word.

“No, Stiles.” Deaton grew serious – more serious than before. “These creatures can’t be stopped unless you kill them. Even Witches and Gods, while many can be innocent, are nothing to mess around with. They are powerful, they lie, they deceive, and they will do anything to get what they want if their intentions are truly evil. If this is really what is going on here…” He sighed, as if not wanting to finish that sentence, “Then you’re in big trouble because chances are…they know you weren’t affected by the spell.”

Once again, he felt his heart drop in his chest.

“Can wearing Iron help prevent them from finding me?”

“Possibly. But like I said, the Nameton’s power is strong – which can make their powers stronger.”

He gulped again. “Alright, thanks, Deaton.”

“You’re welcome. And Stiles – be careful. Try to talk to Scott again.”

“I will.” He said, then soon hung up and pocketed his phone. He heaved a sigh, his mind still on the girl – her face, twisted in so much pain and fear and anxiety. Even in English class, but he just didn’t see it. She tried to talk to him. She tried to write. She tried to communicate in every way possible, but the closer she would get to telling him the truth, the sicker she got. Like it was taking everything out of her to finally break through the spell.

“Damn, it.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he grabbed his phone once again and started to dial Scott, putting the keys in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot. He listened as it ringed several times before stopping, obviously meaning Scott hung up rather than letting it go to voicemail. He cursed under his breath, knowing that Scott and the others were probably busy with who-knows-what, and he hoped – he prayed – that it wasn’t what he was dealing with.

He could feel the panic growing as Deaton’s words echoed inside his head. He needed to tell someone – he needed them to _remember_. Maybe a note. Yes, that made sense.

He pressed down on the gas a little harder, speeding down the road until he finally made it to his house. As he parked the Jeep in the driveway, he jumped out and ran inside, immediately heading towards the kitchen and grabbed a paper and a pen.

He thought for a moment on what to write. This was a ‘case of emergency’ note, right? In case the killers got to him, and they erased him too. In case his dad forgot, or his pack forgot, or in case he was under the same ‘your-lips-are-sealed’ kind of spell.

_Dad,_

_I’m writing this in case of emergency, and if you are reading this – if I never came back to throw away the note – then that means something happened to me._

_Now, I need you to read this carefully._

_My name is Stiles and I am your son. If you know this – good. That means I’m not held hostage somewhere, but that **most likely** I’m under a spell and I am unable to tell you what is happening._

_If you don’t remember who I am, or that you even had a son, then the worst case scenario had already happened. I know that as you are reading this, you might be thinking that I’m crazy – but please, keep reading. I know that deep down you remember – werewolves, kanimas, banshees, kitsunes. These words might sound like fantasy to you, but somewhere inside, they are familiar. At least, I hope so._

_Either way, it is important you pass this message. Because even if you aren’t doing this for me, or even if I’m already dead, do this for the town. Because I assure you, I won’t be the only one that vanishes – or, whatever happened to me._

_It is Friday, September 8 th, and I met a girl whose first day of school was today, who I am certain is supernatural. But it appears that she is under a spell – which Deaton says could be a witch, god, or ghost rider – and the more she tried to tell me what was happening, the sicker she got. All I could do was ask yes or no questions, and she could only nod to answer. From what I gather, the new girl – Kaia – has witnessed more than one murder, and that the new substitute teachers, Mr. and Miss. Grant, are the ones who killed them. When I tried to get the pack’s help, they didn’t remember a new girl or new substitute teacher. Somehow, their memories were erased, and Kaia disappeared._

_And, if you are reading this, that means that I’m next. So, I need you to give this to Scott McCall. If you don’t remember him, his mother is a nurse at Beacon Hills Memorial. He’s a senior and is on the lacrosse team. It is essential that you give him this note._

_As for you, Scott, don’t be fooled if you see me in class acting normal. Kaia was in class and acting normal, too, and yet the witches, or whatever they are, still had control over her._

_I hope you remember._

_Please help._

_Stiles._

As Stiles finished, he curled and uncurled his fingers that now ached, and he sighed as he folded the paper and tried to think. He knew that he was always the one that got the mail every morning, so the only reason why his dad would be the one to get the mail would be if he never showed up or if he was also erased.

He gulped again, trying to think through what he was doing. He needed to call Scott. He needed to tell him what is going on, and he needed to find a way to get to Kaia. He just…he had no idea _how._

He needed his best friend.

Sighing once again, he folded the paper, grabbed his keys, and started to head towards the door until he stopped.

Iron. Yeah – maybe this wasn’t a witch, but maybe it was. So, what would be the harm in surrounding the note in Iron? Maybe the witch, if they were witches, wouldn’t be able to grab it. Or sense it. Or erase it with magic. He wasn’t sure how these things worked, really, but he had to at least try.

He started to search throughout the house, then remembering that he had a small, iron, ancient-looking, chest in the attic from his mother’s things. He always thought that box looked creepy, and he never understood why she kept it, but right now he was just thankful they had kept it. So, he ran up the stairs, then up the attic, and searched through all the dusty boxes until he found it. It was small, maybe five inches in length, three in width, and four in height, and had an old, ancient-looking key with it. He smiled, then ran out of the attic, down the stairs, and to the kitchen as he set it down. He grabbed the paper once again, then sighed as he decided to add one more thing.

_P.S. Iron is a poor conductor of magic against witches, hence mom’s creepy box._

He set the pen down, feeling satisfied, then folded the paper and placed it in the box. He locked it, then grabbed a sticky note from the drawer and wrote down something else.

_To: Sheriff Stilinski_

Finally, he placed the sticky note on the box, the key on the key holder, and then locked the front door and headed out towards the mailbox. He tucked it in the back, closed the mailbox, then finally headed towards his Jeep and got in.

Gulping, he finally dialed Scott’s number, hoping this time he would answer.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Stiles made it back to the school, Scott finally picked up.

“Hey, sorry we were tracking a rogue wolf,” Scott answered the phone, breathing slightly heavy as if they were on some wild goose chase. And, given that Scott never seemed to be out of breath, Stiles assumed that was true.

Like, it was some kind of distraction.

No, he couldn’t just assume that it was the witch or god or ghost rider.

“I need you to meet me at the lacrosse field. You’re heading there already, right?” He questioned, eyeing the field until he saw their things still in the same place they left them.

“Yeah, we’re almost there. Why?” He questioned, “Wait, is this about—”

“Scott, for once in your life, I need you to shut up and listen.” He spat out, annoyance evident in his voice.

“Okay…” Scott trailed off, sounding worried. But now, as Stiles opened his mouth to speak, he realized he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t think clearly, and he got out of the Jeep and started walking towards the bleachers, letting the cool air calm his nerves.

Oh, _what the hell?_ He thought.

“Someone has been killing people, and I think I’m next.”

The other line was completely silent, and for a long moment, Stiles wondered if he was going to say anything. Or, if he should just continue explaining, but he couldn’t.

“What happened?” He asked, and it felt like _everything_ was silent. The wind, the trees, the birds – it was all just too quiet, and it made every hair on his body stand up.

“I…I’ll tell you when you get here. How close are you?”

“We’ll be there any minute. But Stiles—”

“Scott.” He warned, “Look, just—” He stopped, his eyes meeting with bright green ones, making his own widen in surprise. He took a step back, his heart thumping so loud in his chest that he could barely hear his own thoughts.

“Miss. Grant.” He hoped Scott heard the name. He hoped he’ll _remember._ “I-uh, w-what are you doing here?” He stuttered awkwardly, backing up once more. He could barely hear Scott’s voice on the other end, even though by now his hands were by his sides.

“Oh, you’ve been a naughty boy, Mr. Stilinski.” She edged closer to him, and he scrunched up his eyebrows at her words, feeling weirded out as the older woman continued to advance on him.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lied. She knew it.

“Yes, you do.” She purred, her lips turning up in a smile. He continued to back up until he felt his back hit something hard, and his arms were forced behind his back, causing the phone to slip from his hands. He struggled, groaning as he tried to kick, but she snapped her fingers and suddenly his feet stayed still. She continued to grow closer, her steps slow and her eyes on him like he was prey. “I expected a fight…but I guess you’re weaker than I thought.” She tilted her head as if trying to focus on something – like his scent, or his energy.

“I’m human.” He declared, “I’m useless to you. Now let me go.”

She chuckled, “You really think that will work?” She questioned him, no doubt in her mind that he was lying – but he was. He was only just human, and he didn’t understand why she assumed he was not.

“Stiles!” He heard Scott’s scream coming from the edge of the woods, his teeth bared and eyes flashing red as he started to run. But all Miss. Grant did was look over with a frown, snap her fingers, and suddenly he along with the rest of the pack disappeared.

“ _No!_ ” He screamed, eyes widening in fear before he looked at her and snarled, “What did you do to them?!”

“Nothing.” She shrugged with a little giggle, “But they’ll wake up in their beds tomorrow, forgetting this ever happened. I can’t have you spilling my secrets, now can I?” She smirked, revealing her pearly, unbelievably white teeth, then traced the side of his face with her fingertips. He tried to turn away from her touch, to move, but his feet wouldn’t budge and his arms were still being held back with crazy amount of strength.

“You are…beautiful.” She licked her lips, then brought her finger to her lips and licked it, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and closing as she moaned, “So delicious.”

Stiles gulped, feeling both violated and disgusted.

“What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She giggled, tilting her head, “You.”

He gulped again, his heart pounding so hard that he found himself unable to speak. He prayed that whatever magic she’s done, that the note wouldn’t disappear. That maybe – just maybe – she forgot that he knows Deaton, and he’ll remember too.

And he hoped that she wouldn’t be able to force the truth out of him, either.

“So, how many times?” He asked, swallowing a lump that formed in his dry throat, “How many times have you made everyone forget the new girl, Kaia? How many times had she tried to tell people?”

“Oh, no. This is the first time.” She chuckled, “But with her abilities and her beauty, it is only necessary that she remains in school.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together, wondering what she meant, but instead of asking she just looked up at the man that held him from behind – assuming to be Mr. Grant – and nodded. Suddenly, his eyes widened even more as he felt electricity surge through his entire body, his mouth opening but unable to scream, until his vision became blurry and his body lost its strength.

He felt himself fall to the ground with a loud _thump_ , his head hitting the grass hard. All he could see was Miss. Grant’s heel step in his field of vision, and then everything faded into darkness.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor sexual/non-consensual material.

Stiles eyes slowly opened and blinked away the blurriness, his head spinning and throbbing as he grimaced and started to sit up. As he started to take in the sights around him, his eyes began to widen and he sat up straight in shock.

He was lying on an old, brown, couch with a small black blanket and a soft white pillow. He looked like he was in a typical living room: There was an old-school boxed TV sitting on a TV stand, and in front of that was a small wooden table with candles, bloody bandages, and gauze. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, and the sight of blood suddenly made him realize he was in pain.

He looked down at himself, noticing he was barefoot, was wearing jeans, and a t-shirt that had slices in them and was soaked in blood and, he assumed, rain. He gulped, lifting it up to see bandages covering his torso, most of which he already bled through. He dropped his shirt at the sight, then slowly raised his hand to rub his face while he tried to think, but stopped as he felt little cuts along his jaw, cheek, and temple – and a big gash on his head that felt like it was already stitched.

“Oh, good – you’re awake.” Came a woman’s voice. He flinched, his eyes widening as he backed up against the couch and looked at the woman. She looked to be in her early-to-mid 20’s, was tall and slender, had dark brown hair, and bright green eyes. He could have sworn he knew her…

Wait.

“Miss. Grant?” He scrunched his eyebrows together, but the action seemed to pull at his stitches. “How…what happened?”

“Oh…you don’t remember?” She frowned, then lowered the tray she was holding onto the table that held a bowl of soup, a sandwich, and some tea. “You were in a car accident. Your Jeep was wrapped around a tree…” She shook her head, a small breath escaping from her lips as if thinking back to the memory frightened her. “It was horrible,” Her voice shook, looking back at him with a motherly worried look, “It was pouring so hard and there was no signal…so I just took you to my house, since we were already close, anyway. I haven’t been able to get a hold of anyone since.”

“Oh.” He licked his lips, which were cracked and dry. He didn’t remember that. In fact, he couldn’t seem to remember anything. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep. What day was it?

“You…really don’t remember?”

He slowly shook his head, then looked around the room cautiously. There were flowers and old-looking paintings everywhere, little small statues of angels and fairies and dragons, and jars of herbs and books on shelves. He could also see the window, the dark curtains barely closed, and he watched as the rain was pouring down hard with the trees shaking with a vengeance.

“I don’t remember.” He finally admitted, “What day is it?”

“Friday.” She answered, “I’m afraid with all the calling I tried to do…your phone died, and I don’t own much electronics. I guess this means we will have to wait for the storm out, though. But that’s fine – I stitched you up while you slept.”

“While I slept?” He questioned. That was kind of creepy. “Are you a doctor?” It was a stupid question. She was young, and there was no way she got her M.D. and was now a teacher at – what? 23?

“Don’t worry, darling. It will barely leave a scratch – I’m quite good with my hands.” She gave a little giggle, then pushed the tray closer to him, “Now, why don’t you eat? I’ll go find you some change of clothes. I’m sure my fiancé has some clothes that will fit.”

Oh, right – Mr. Grant.

“Wait, fiancé?” He repeated, suddenly confused, “How come he has the same last name?”

“Oh,” She paused as if just noticing the detail, but then laughed, “His first name is Grant. His last name is Brooks. He’s never been quite fond of people calling him by his last name – oh, how funny of me to not notice?” She giggled but stood up and wiped her hands on her pants, “Eat up – I will find you some dry clothes.”

Stiles just nodded, watching as his English teacher walked out of the living room, and he looked down at the food in front of him. He couldn’t help but feel weirded out. His teacher – though, she may be only a couple years older than him and was definitely hot – had taken an unconscious student to her house and _stitched him up while he slept._ Sure, it sounded like it was all good intentions, and she was getting married, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was just…

Well, creepy.

He understood, though. If her story really was correct – which, he couldn’t remember for the life of him – it made…sense why she would take him home and not a hospital. But, still – it felt weird. He couldn’t remember the crash or the day in general. He couldn’t remember the news saying it was even going to rain. He just wasn’t sure how comfortable he felt with all this. And seriously – what normal person knows how to stitch someone up?

Yeah, there was definitely something weird going on around here, and the thought made his heart sink in his chest. Was he being used to lure in Scott and the pack? It wouldn’t be the first time – heck, it wouldn’t even be the first time that the enemy was his own _teacher._

“Not hungry?” She tore through his thoughts, and he shook his head and blinked several times before looking her way. She was wearing a different outfit now – short jean shorts and a white tank top that hugged her breast, along with black knee-high socks. She smiled as she walked towards him, holding a simple white t-shirt and jeans, then set them down on the couch next to him.

“Lost my appetite.” He lied. He was hungry and his stomach growled, but he didn’t trust her. And maybe this was really nothing and he was just being over-dramatic, but with what he’s experienced, he had every right to have little trust issues.

“Oh.” She still spoke in her unusually cheerful voice, “Well, perhaps I will save it for you later.” She gave another smile, then bent over to grab the tray. “Why don’t you get dressed? You must be cold.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking out the window once again to see it still raining. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to get the hell out, and even though he may not be a banshee, he still trusted his instincts.

“I-I should go. My dad must be looking for me.” He slowly stood up, grimacing from his wounds, but tried to ignore it as he looked down at his bare feet, “Where are my shoes?”

“Are you sure about that?” She sounded worried – but now, it was becoming more clear that she was just worried he’ll leave. Not so much on what happens. “It’s pouring! And your car-!”

“I’ve handled worse.” He answered, and it was true. Beacon Hills may still be about two hours from the beach, it still had its’ fair share of nasty hurricanes. “Um…my shoes?”

“Right. I had put them in the drier – let me get it for you.” She gave another awkward smile, before turning around and quickly disappearing down the hall. He frowned again, feeling like he’s been longer than needed, and he couldn’t help but feel violated that she had bandaged him up while he was sleeping.

Still, he stood there and tried to think, and he suddenly couldn’t seem to remember _how_ he knew Miss. and Mr. Grant…or Brooks. They definitely weren’t teachers yesterday, but how did he know them today?

His head felt like it was spinning, and it felt like he was trying to walk through 150 miles per hour wind, and the fact that his memories weren’t resurfacing was starting to annoy him. Why couldn’t he remember anything but who she is?

Suddenly, English class sprang to mind, and he remembered how Mrs. White was taking a leave of absence. He remembered the pack pushing him out, meeting the new girl, Kaia, who had a beautiful bright smile and bright blue eyes, and seeing her at lacrosse and…

He could feel his heart skip a beat as the memories suddenly resurfaced.

Lacrosse. Kaia’s attack. Getting attacked on the field. It all came rushing back, and he could feel himself start to shake as fear took over his body.

“Here you go – oh, are you…are you OK, Stiles?”

“What?” He gulped, looking at her with wide, big, eyes, “I-I’m fine.” It was a lie that he hoped she wouldn’t catch, “Thank you.”

He gave a fake smile as he grabbed his socks and shoes, then sat back down on the couch and started to put them on. He wanted nothing more than to run out of there as fast as he could, but the fear that he wouldn’t even make it to the door forced him not to.

“At least let me try to drive you to the hospital.” She pressured. He stayed quiet, thinking about what the best option was. If he said no, would it be obvious that he remembered? Maybe it was a good idea to say yes, and she’ll just let him go thinking he was in a car accident, and nothing more.

Sounds logical…right?

“I guess so.” He finally answered as he finished tying his shoes, then rose to his feet.

She tilted her head at him like she was a cat and he was a mouse, and it sent a shiver down his spine as she looked at him like her plaything.

“You are more powerful than I thought.” She giggled, and it sounded so damn creepy as it echoed off the walls and the roar of thunder soon followed.

“I-what?” He tried to play dumb. He tried to pretend like he couldn’t remember, but maybe she could see right through him. He realized now that he never _really_ got to ask Deaton exactly what a witch could do. He had no idea on the extent of her abilities – on her magic.

Then again, now that he was thinking about it, he was only _assuming_ she was a witch. Because, he only read a little material on Gods and Witches, and it seemed like if she was a Goddess, she wouldn’t have stitched him up. She would have eaten him right then and there.

“Oh, don’t even.” Her eyes narrowed at him as she took slow steps forward, and as she grew closer he suddenly realized that her eyes formed into slits, and her nails grew into claws. She had licked her lips slowly and raised her hand, and he tried to back up only for his legs to not corporate, forced to feel her nails trail down his torso and agitate his cuts as she placed her palm on his chest, his heart thumping hard against it. She leaned her head back a little, looking like she was moaning in pleasure before she lowered her head to his neck and breathed in his scent.

“When I found out that The Warper was merely a seventeen-year-old boy, I was so…disappointed.” She purred a little, and he felt her tongue up his neck as she tugged his ear with her teeth. He gulped, moving his head away and slamming his eyes closed as if keeping them closed would make himself believe he wasn’t here.

“And then I saw you.” She breathed in, her head lowering as she then made a small cut on his chest with her claw. He gave a muffled groan of pain as she licked it, then sucked on his blood on her finger with a sexual tease in her eyes, “So handsome. So strong. So…powerful. And yet…” She giggled again, shaking her head as her smile suddenly disappeared, “So disappointing.” She spat, pushing against his chest so hard he felt himself fall on the couch with a huff.

She still laughed, then climbed on top of him and started to lift his shirt. His eyes widened more, realizing what was happening, and he felt his heart pound against his ribcage as his body felt like it was being filled with liquid concrete.

“There is so much power running through your veins, Stiles.” She breathed in and moaned before ripping his shirt open, “So much power…and yet, you do _nothing_ with it.”

He tried to open his mouth. He tried to tell her she was crazy – or to scream. But he couldn’t. It was like the liquid concrete was going down his throat and hardening as the seconds ticked by. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do _anything._

He couldn’t do anything but watch.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby.” She cooed as she began to kiss his chest and let her hands trace every curve of his body, “You just need to sit back…” She sat up, hands going up her own body as she lifted up her shirt, “Relax…” She threw the tank top aside, revealing the leopard print bra that hugged her breasts tight, “And let our bodies do all the work…” She leaned forward, her lips forming into a small smile as she started to kiss his neck. He could feel her breath, and it sent a shiver down his spine. “While I search through that beautiful soul of yours.”

 _You are a crazy bitch,_ he wanted to yell. His face was the only thing that he could move – despite his lips, really – and all he could really do was look at her in a state of fear and confusion.

“Oh, don’t frown.” She pouted, cupping his cheek and tilting her head like a cat once again, only her eyes were now back to their normal green, and she raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

Immediately, and before Stiles could even process what he was doing, he felt his hand wrap around her throat as he sat up quickly. Her legs were still wrapped around him, her body so close that her breasts were pressed against his chest, and her big blue eyes were wide with fear.

Wait…blue?

His eyebrows scrunched together as he stared at her, his hands never loosening around her throat. Her eyes were a beautiful, hypnotizing, bright blue. Her hair was a dark brown that was almost black, and it was down, wavy, and pushed back. Her skin was perfectly smooth and just tan enough to not make her look too pale, and her lips – Jesus, _her lips_ – were parted in shock as she just stared deep into his eyes…into his soul.

He couldn’t remember why his hands were wrapped around Kaia’s throat. He couldn’t remember why his shirt was ripped and his torso ached, or why Kaia’s large, round, breasts were practically in his face. He couldn’t remember when he looked at her like this – with such temptation, such hunger – or where he even was.

All he knew was…

He wanted her.

He loosened his grip around her throat, and there wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as she cupped his face and they slammed their lips together, her legs wrapping around his body as he gripped her sides and spun around, dropping her on the couch. Their lips parted, their foreheads touching, and they breathed heavily together as she started to unzip her pants. He helped her, shoving them off and throwing them across the room, revealing the matching leopard panties. Her long legs wrapping him pulled him in closer, and he started to kiss her body, creating a trail of kisses down her chest and to her legs, reaching down to her inner thighs and…

He froze, the fuzziness in his mind suddenly disappearing. Like a window had cracked, then shattered in an explosion of memories.

He remembered seeing her for the first time. She sat in the back of the class and drawing in her journal, her eyes glassed over. He remembered Malia telling him in class that she wasn’t human, and saying he was going to keep an eye on her. He remembered getting distracted during lunch, and instead, he ran into her, but they talked about the future, love, and the little things. He learned that she went to Italy and Paris and the Middle East and that she fell in love with _Le Pain Perdu_ , which was basically French toast as dessert, and he seemed to fall in love when she spoke in a perfect middle eastern accent. And then again, when she talked about having _Soupe a l’oignon_ in France with a man who told her so many stories, he reminded her how much she loved to write – and again, as she spoke, her accent switched to that of a French, sounding as if she was a native herself. He remembered getting injured during lacrosse practice because he was distracted when he realized she was _the_ new athletic trainer, and she had giggled and made his heart flutter.

And, he remembered meeting her again the next day as if it was for the first time. And it was different, yet the same. They talked and talked – her about her missing parents, and him about what he went through with his mom. They cried, and panicked, and comforted, then did it all over again the next day. And he was sure that he fell in love over and over – not even knowing it, as all he did was look into those beautiful blue eyes.

He remembered the third time, she yelled his name down an empty hallway, and he whipped around in surprise. For a moment, she didn’t speak – but then she ran up to him and said, “what the hell – you won’t even remember this” as she slammed their lips together, and he froze before finding his lips moving along hers. They found themselves bursting into the empty locker room, ripping each other’s clothes off – and it was crazy. It was unbelievably crazy, yet he couldn’t help himself, because as he touched her skin or looked at her or even heard her voice, he could feel it in his heart that he wanted no one else. He didn’t know how to explain it. He was probably a moron for even really thinking he was in love – but he didn’t care.

And then the next day, the fifth day, she barely spoke. They remained quiet in all their classes, and the only time he really seemed hypnotized – maybe a little when he first saw her – was when she was pouring that blue stuff all over him that healed like magic. But he mistook that feeling with panic. He thought that the reason his heart was beating so hard against his chest was that she was hurt and afraid, and he didn’t realize that it was something more: that he, no matter how crazy it sound, was in love.

But right now, this wasn’t love. He was hypnotized – literally – because this…

This wasn’t Kaia.

And he knew because that cute little birthmark on Kaia’s inner thigh wasn’t there, and he instantly found himself jumping back and scooting to the end of the couch with wide, honey-brown eyes.

“Wh-what…” He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t process what was happening, or how he remembered her. He couldn’t begin to understand his feelings, or what was happening right now – or how he even got here. Not really, at least. “You’re not Kaia.”

The clone frowned, and there was a shimmer before the real woman appeared.

Miss. Grant.

The Witch.

“I underestimated you.” She spoke softly, disappointment evident on her face. He expected her to jump up and fight, or even for her to explain, but she just stood there and stared at him for a long, awkward, moment.

“That’s too bad.” She finally whispered, and his face twisted into confusion as suddenly as a pair of throngs jabbed into his back, sending waves of electricity through his body. His body stiffened, his eyes wide and his teeth gritted, and after what felt like ages of unbearable pain, it suddenly stopped.

He felt his body hit the ground before he slipped into unconsciousness.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Some non-consensual sex mentioned.

The first thing Stiles noticed as he came to consciousness, was the searing pain in his skull. He groaned out in pain, lifting his arm to his head and feeling a sting in his abdomen at the movement that made him want to throw up. He didn’t, though, and he held it in as he started to lift himself off the hardwood floor, his eyes immediately falling on the figure curled up in the corner.

“Kaia!” His eyes widened, and he jumped up, his legs immediately going weak before he caught himself by holding onto the edge of a dirty old bed. Memories of what happened suddenly hit him, and he hesitated for a moment as he wondered if it was really Kaia.

Hearing her name, she slowly lifted her head as bright blue eyes peered from behind her hair that covered her face. She had her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs in a tight ball, and he slowly got closer as he took in her every detail.

Her hair was a mess, and every visible skin was covered in blood – her face, her neck, her chest - and he had to wonder just how much blood she actually had left. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt that had holes in it and soaked – almost in its’ entirety – in blood. She was wearing jeans that didn’t look cut up but were also soaked and splattered in blood, and she was barefoot.

But what caught his eye the most was the tears that streamed down her cheeks – the tears that were _glowing_ blue.

He gulped as he tried to push that shock away and hurried towards her and kneeled down. He realized that he wasn’t even sure what to do, so he just grabbed her hand and gently squeezed.

“Kaia?” His voice shook, his eyes scanning her body as he tried to see how bad her injuries were. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure exactly what to do – because now _he_ was stuck, too.

She looked away as if embarrassed, but still gently squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, her voice hoarse as if she’s been screaming. He wondered how she could have looked so normal just hours before, but now looked like she was at Death’s door.

“Sorry?” He repeated, “You didn’t do anything.”

“I tried to warn you.” She looked up at him, another glowing tear escaping from her eyes, that also glowed blue. “I-I-I wasn’t strong enough.” She stuttered, her eyes closing as she gulped and lowered her head to her knees.

“You did great.” He said, and it wasn’t just to comfort her. “I…” He gulped, shifting his weight until he sat down more comfortably. He still held her hand, and he felt weird for being so comfortable. He just met her – five days ago, even though it was like he just met her over and over again. And it was stupid to have these feelings already. It was…naïve for him to think that he could love someone he just met. And sure, they did have sex in the locker room that once, and honestly he didn’t know why. The reasonable side of him said it was crazy, but the other side of him…the other side of him liked it. Because he felt connected to her, and he didn’t know why. Like he knew her in another life, as weird as that sounded.

He swallowed another lump that formed, then cleared his throat awkwardly, “My pack will find me.” He felt his heart sink, and that very sentence actually scared him. Because, now that he thought about it, he wondered if they would even notice. They tried to kick him out and shove him aside, and they wouldn’t even listen to him – _believe_ him – when he tried to tell them. And, given that Kaia has been going to school, he wouldn’t be surprised if he will do – just, under a spell.

Hopefully, talking to Deaton, or writing that letter, or even calling Scott would be enough. Hopefully, someone will remember.

“I hope so.” She spoke quietly, “Because your pack is our only hope.”

He gulped, watching as she let go of his hand and wiped the tears away, rubbing it on her shirt until the glow faded, and she looked back up at him with normal blue eyes.

“Are you…?”

“Without a pack?” She finished for him, licking her busted lip and looking away again, “They’re…” She trailed off, “They’re dead or missing. Have been for a while.”

“Oh.” Was all he said, unsure of how to even respond to that. He bit his lip, looking around the room. The floors were a polished light wood, and the walls were also a wood – albeit more old and worn-down, yet he figured that it wasn’t so easy to break through given that Kaia was still here.

On one side of the room, next to the corner they were in, was a small twin-sized bed with light brown sheets, a small yarn navy blue blanket, and a single white pillow. Next to that was a dresser with a lamp on it and four photographs. As he squinted his eyes and peered closer, he could see that one of them was of a group of people – possibly over fifteen – with all of their faces scratched out but one, which was a younger-looking girl. Next to that one was of Kaia with several other people around her age, as well as an obviously younger girl. The other photograph was of his parents, holding a toddler which Stiles realized was him, and next to that was of Stiles and the entire pack: Scott, Liam, Malia, and Lydia. He wondered where the hell this woman got these photos, and why the one that he assumed was of Kaia had so many faces scratched out, but he just gulped and looked back at the broken-looking girl in front of him.

“Creepy, right?” She coughed, clearing her throat and wiping her face, even though most of the blood on her cheeks were dry and cracked. “I thought those pictures were lost forever.”

“What happened to their faces?” He wondered, and he hoped – he prayed – that it wasn’t some kind of hit-list mafia type deal, like some punishment for when she tried to escape. He hoped that it didn’t mean that they were dead, and the thought made his heart skip a beat.

“That’s a long story.” She frowned, “Elena didn’t do that.”

“Elena?”

“Miss. Grant.” She corrected, “Which isn’t either of their real names, by the way.”

“How do you know?” He furrowed his eyebrows, positioning himself to face her more clearly as he leaned against the bed and rested his arm on his knees.

“I’m a private investigator. Well, except I’m basically pro bono.” She shrugged, then cringed at the movement, “I had a P.I. friend named Richard Gordon. He was, um…basically a hunter-slash-private-investigator. People would go to him when they knew that their cases couldn’t be solved by the usual means. He was good at his job, y’know? So, of course, he kind of had enemies – especially because he wasn’t the type to just kill someone simply because of their species…” She trailed off for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows as if forgetting why she was telling him this, “He was killed by hunters, and after his death I got an automated e-mail from him which were a list of cases and names, but the weird thing is, the cases haven’t happened yet until after I got that e-mail, and he’s human…not psychic.”

“That is weird.” He squinted at her, and he wasn’t surprised how drawn in he was into her stories. He always was. “Was Miss. Grant…er, Elena, one of the cases?”

“Yeah. One of the first ones. Their real names are Elena Grastok and Tobias Care de Roy. They were born in the 1500’s, got married, and even had a girl named Millicent Care de Roy – or ‘Millie’ for short. From what I gathered before I got caught, Elena and Tobias have such an addiction for power, that they were willing to rat their own daughter out to the town council, where Millicent was sentenced to death for being a witch – which, technically, she was. They are a family of Siphoners, which have the ability to absorb energy and temporarily mimic abilities. They can also steal someone’s power completely and have it as their own, but that process takes longer and often leads them to their death…which, is part of the reason we are here.”

“Yeah, about that.” He gulped, “I’m human. Why did she take me?”

She was silent for a long moment, just staring at him with a mixture of shock and confusion before she finally started to laugh.

Though, as his face stayed serious, it suddenly died down.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

He nodded.

“Oh, Stiles.” She shifted her weight, grunting as she did so, “I hate to break this to you, but you are no human.”

“What?” He shook his head, looking away as he stood up. He couldn’t look at her, and instead, he needed to focus on something else – like, getting out. “I’m human.” He repeated, scanning the walls. There was a door, and in front of that door was four small steps that led down to the door, and a small four-paned window on the wall near Kaia that was too small and too high. He was pretty sure they were in an attic.

“I’m serious.” Kaia groaned, grabbing onto the wall for support as she started to sit up, holding her sides then leaning back in a huff, “I can feel your energy. I can’t exactly tell what you are – and honestly, I also thought you were human. But I can feel it now. Elena must have been close to drawing it out – which, just a wild guess here, means you either had sex with her or almost did.”

He suddenly blushed, his face burning red that he thought he was going to have tunnel vision. But, he tried to ignore it as he gulped and looked at her. “How…?”

“The first step is to search through the energy – kind of like…searching for a rope, and then pulling it and drawing it out. The first step doesn’t take our powers or anything – and even so, we have to give permission for it to even work. But, the best way for a Siphoner like Elena and Tobias to be able to locate the core of our energy is…well, um…sex.” She blushed, and from what Stiles remembered – although it was still a little fuzzy from all the times Kaia was ‘deleted’ – Kaia wasn’t one to blush over the mere mention of sex.

That is until Stiles remembered that Elena isn’t their only captor.

“Did Tobias…?”

“They can shift into the person you…desire the most.” She sucked in a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest as if feeling violated, “I’m guessing you already knew that.”

He blushed again, but now all he could think about was what Tobias did to her, or if she was able to get away in time like he did.

“How do they know who you desire the most?”

“They stole the power of a Siren – well, a Love Siren. There are many types.” She added although it was unnecessary. It was like she was a walking bestiary, and he made a mental note to ask her how she knew about these things later. “Those types of sirens can act as mind readers, of the sort. So, they’ll turn into the person that you love or miss or just sexually desire the most without you even realizing that those feelings are there.”

“Oh.” Stiles gulped, looking away again as he eyed the room carefully.

“Who did you see?” She asked quietly, and after a moment of silence she added, “Sorry – I guess I’ve just missed talking to people freely.” She gave an awkward laugh, still holding her side as she cringed. “You don’t have to answer.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, and just nodded a little as he looked at her as questions sprang to mind and made his head spin. He wondered who she saw and what she’ll think of him if he said the truth. He wondered how long she’s been here, why Elena and Tobias were on her little list, and why Elena was after _him_.

Because they were wrong. He’s human. He’s _just_ human.

“I…I almost didn’t come to Beacon Hills.” She broke the silence, and he wondered how long she’s been here, and now he could see why she talked a lot the first four days, even though she had to go through the process of introducing herself over and over again. But he understood – she didn’t have anyone to talk to. Not really – because it seemed like the things she _wanted_ to desperately say, she couldn’t, at least not at school. And now that he was stuck here with her…

He sighed. He didn’t mind, though. He loved hearing her talk, which was weird given that _he_ was always the one talking.

“Why did you come?” He asked, “Because Elena and Tobias were on the list?”

“No, actually.” She shrugged, “I didn’t know they would be in Beacon Hills – let alone in the states. I…” She gulped, shaking her head a little, “I was looking for the son of an old friend. I don’t know what he looks like, or even his name because she used a different last name when I knew her. All I know is what the legends call him.”

“The legends?” He raised his eyebrow, looking at her as if what she was talking about sounded absolutely nuts.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s stupid.” She said, “The Legend was supposedly foretold by some prophet in the 14th century about a biblical supernatural war that would occur, and that three very specific, special supernatural beings, called _The Divergents_ , would gather the eleven keys and bond with their blood, and somehow, these three special children would save humanity – or, I guess, stop this supposed war that the humans might not even realize is happening around them.” She rolled her eyes a little, “Nearly every supernatural knew the legends, and they all knew the stupid little titles of the three special children, and what their powers held. Supposedly, the original journal was published, and it held information on the eleven keys as well, which the special children were tasked to gather.”

“So, you think that your friend’s son is one of these special children?”

“I don’t know what to think.” She said honestly, walking a little closer before finally sitting down on the edge of the dirty mattress, “Ever since I was a kid, I was told that I was one of these special children. But honestly? I think it’s full of shit. Especially now. I mean, I’ve met demons, I’ve met angels, I’ve died several times, went to hell, went to heaven, and even went to purgatory – and dude, people think that they are all-knowing and that once we die it’s all organized in these afterlives but…they don’t know jack. I mean, _seriously._ And how could someone be “The Chosen One”, when I know for a fact that even angels have back up plans? People pray and think that God is all-knowing and all-controlling, but things…things aren’t perfect. There is no order – not necessarily. Things happen and plan A never works out. So yeah, I don’t believe that I’m one of the special children. I don’t believe that they are that organized up there, either, or that the prophet – if he or she is even real – actually got his or her information from above, or somewhere else. So forgive me if I don’t have faith in the system.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a pout, and he just raised his eyebrows.

“You…died?”

“Several times.”

“And…you went to Hell?”

“Well…that is because the first time, I sold my soul to save my best friend.”

The room fell silent, and Stiles had to take that time to process what she just said.

“The _first_ time?”

She bit her lip as if realizing her word choice, then gave a small sigh, “Yeah…the second time was because I pissed off Lucifer.”

“How? You know what…demons, angels, gods, witches, and freakin’ Siphoners. I’m not sure if I can take any more of this.” He waved his hands around and decided that instead of standing around and attempting to process this information, he is going to decide to look around. Starting by seeing if he can pry some of the wall open next to the small window.

But, he still had to ask one more thing.

“So, I’m still a little confused on one thing.” He said, not waiting for her to reply, “If you don’t believe in the prophecies – which, I totally get, by the way – why were you looking for one of the…er, _Divergents?”_

She sighed, glancing over her shoulder at him before looking away, “The entire room is protected by magic. I’ve tried – but I won’t stop you. Maybe there is a hole in the magic somewhere.” She stood up and headed towards the dresser, opening the first drawer and pulling out a water bottle, and then a clean t-shirt. “And two reasons: my friend, the mother, was actually like a mother to me. She saved my life many times, so I at least owed her this to find him and keep him safe. And two, I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter how much I think it is bullshit, it doesn’t stop others from looking, either. I don’t know, after everything that happened with my family and my pack, I was left all alone. It felt like the only thing he I had left, y’know? Find the other two special children…and hope that everyone around me was wrong and that I’m not the third.”

Stiles heaved a sigh as he tried to pull at pieces of wood, but couldn’t seem to get anything to nudge, so he groaned as he looked around the room for something to use.

“So, wait, how do people know where to even look for these Special Children?” He questioned, then spotted the lamp. He grabbed it, ripped the cord out of the wall, then took off the lampshade and headed back towards the window. Immediately, he started to bang against the window, only for it to not even make a single crack. Finally, with his last ounce of patients, he threw the lamp at it only to watch it suddenly disappear and appear back on the dresser.

“Are you kidding me?” He muttered under his breath. Of course, Kaia didn’t seem a bit surprised.

“The legends said their powers.” She answered him, ignoring his little fit as he instead huffed and started to head towards the door, jiggling the doorknob like a mad man. But, calmly, Kaia just kept talking as she started to pour some water on herself to clean her wounds. “The Traveler, the True Alpha, and the Warper. Each practically listed its abilities, albeit vaguely, along with their roles, gender, and some other random information.

Stiles stopped and turned around, his eyes falling on Kaia who now was only in jeans and a black bra, trying to clean her wounds with water and a small towel. He tried not to look at the gashes on her body, which were much bigger than he thought, but he could see them healing – slower than a werewolf, but still healing.

Still, as his eyes trailed back up Kaia’s body to her face, he was reminded of what she just said.

“Did you just say…True Alpha and Warper?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t look up at him as she started to dig in the dresser for something else, then pulled out what looked like a plastic cup. She set it on the dresser next to the photographs, continuing to dig for something else. “Why?”

“Uh…well, Scott is a True Alpha…and Miss- Elena called me a Warper. I didn’t know what she meant.”

Suddenly, Kaia stopped and looked up at him for the first time, but then her eyes went to the photographs on the dresser. Her bright blue eyes widened as if surprised she didn’t look at them before, and she looked back at him in complete and utter shock.

“You’re…Claudia’s son?”

Now, as Stiles remembered Kaia’s little story, he squinted his eyes at her and felt his heart sink.

“How do you know my mom? She died when I was ten.”

“She faked her death. She had to…for your protection.” The simple little statement hit him hard as if someone was throwing a pile of bricks at him. But he just stood there, every hair on his body standing on end, and chills going down his spine as he tried to take in this information.

His mom…

His mom was _alive._

“I…I don’t believe you.”

“You…?” She raised an eyebrow, “Right.” She nodded, as if understanding, “Well, she told me how she used to sing this Polish lullaby, even when you were ten. Uh…what was it?” She tried to think, looking away as if it would help her remember, and then she started to quietly sing, “ _Rest now, child. The day is over, the sun will shine…_ ” She trailed off, looking almost embarrassed that she burst out into song, then ran an awkward hand through her hair.

“I…I remember that.”

“Your mom was amazing, Stiles.” She said calmly, sympathy on her face, yet looking as if she wasn’t sure how to act in this situation, “She used to hum and sing in the kitchen, too.” She gave a sad smile, as if she missed her, then started to sing quietly again, “ _Not much money, oh, but honey, ain’t we got fun?”_

“ _The rent’s unpaid, dear, We haven’t a car, We’ll stay as we are. Every morning, every evening, ain’t we got fun?”_ Stiles found himself singing along, a smile slowly making it’s way up his face, as Kaia’s smile grew and they both gave soft chuckles.

“God, I always had that song stuck in my head every morning.” Stiles laughed, shaking his head, “Even after…” He trailed off, sucking in a deep breath. He wanted to be mad – to be pissed at his mom for faking her death, but he didn’t understand.

He _needed_ to understand.

He needed to understand a lot.

“I don’t…”

“understand why she faked her death?” She bit her lip and sighed, then turned around as if she couldn’t look at him, and instead pulled out what looked like a nail. She then grabbed the cup and sat down on the edge of the bed and let her focus fall on him. “There is a man named Dr. Hank Charles who calls himself ‘The Doctor’ and owned his own company called Ultra Laboratories. He had a growing interest in the Special Children, and your mom, not knowing who he really was, worked in one of Ultra’s labs. She mostly documented work and wrote research papers, but she was also working with another scientist and learning. But eventually she found out all the crap that goes on behind the scenes, and she was determined to let people know what he was doing – but then something happened. She didn’t talk much about it, just that she somehow figured out you were The Warper, and she was later threatened and your life was in danger. Eventually, she made a deal with a witch, faked her death, and continued to work with Dr. Charles, where she was the lead scientist and doctor. Even though she didn’t technically have a degree in a science or medical field, she was an expert on everything supernatural.”

“So…” Stiles trailed off, swallowing a lump that formed in his dry throat. “How did you meet her?”

“I…” She paused for a moment, looking down and sucking in a deep breath as if it was a hard topic, “I went missing when I was ten – around the same time you lost your mom. I was the first, and only, special children that Dr. Charles had found and successfully caught. I am The Traveler, and he sent me and my pack, which he picked out himself, onto almost random missions to train me, kidnap more supernaturals, humans, and even…um, kill people on a hit list. He had a witch on the side that erased me from existence, technically. I, uh…I went missing on the 4th of July seven years ago in this town, and yet there is no record of me. There are no photos – and the ones that are left, like that one—” She pointed towards the one with the scratched faces, “I can’t see what they look like. I don’t remember them, and they don’t remember me. Sometimes, I remember bits and pieces, but never their face. I just know that I had many siblings, yet all were half-siblings. My parents kind of had a fling, I guess you can say, and all I know is that when I die, they will remember everything. And, the only reason why they didn’t those other times I _did_ die, was because it was either not long enough, or because I wasn’t actually in this universe when I died.”

“Wait…what?”

She sighed.

“I’m a Traveler.” She repeated, “A…Time Jumper. I can jump between parallel and alternate timelines. All those missions my pack, including your mom, were on? All different timelines. And, because jumping from universe to universe there is a major time difference, I’m technically 165 years old. And yet, I’ve only been missing – on this timeline – for seven years.”

“Oh.” Stiles gulped, trying to understand everything she just said.

Witches. Gods. Siphoners. Sirens. Travelers. Warpers. Prophecies. Demons. Angels. _Freaking prophecies,_ and, oh yeah, his mom is alive.

Yeah, that was _a lot_ of freaking information, thank-you-very-much.

“I…” He stopped, took in a deep breath, then blew out slowly and tried again. “You’re 165 years old.”

“Seriously?” She eyed him carefully, then shook her head, gripping the nail tightly in her hands, and decided to change the subject. “My wounds are still healing, but I still heal pretty slow – and I would rather be almost fully healed during the next round of torture, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to make that homemade stuff real quick, ‘kay?”

“Um…what are you—” He stopped, watching her make a deep incision on her wrist, then let herself bleed into the cup. His eyes widened, his lips parted, and he just watched – unable to look away, and unable to find the strength in him to freak out.

When the blood filled the cup almost to the top, she quickly placed the wet towel over her wound and held the cup between her legs. As she pulled the towel away, he noticed that it was almost fully healed – as if self-induced injuries were faster to heal – and then watched as she picked up the cup and her veins started to turn blue and _freaking glow._

As the glow trailed down her arm and to her fingertips, he watched as the crimson red blood appeared to have streaks of glowing blue, and eventually, as she shook the cup, it turned completely blue.

“That’s…” His mouth fell open, “Cool.”

She chuckled, and Stiles realized he hasn’t really seen her smile much – like, _really_ smile.

“How long have you been cooped up in here?”

“A month.” She answered nonchalantly, and his eyes went wide as saucers.

“It’s fine.” She said, but it was a lie. “I went to hell like three times, okay? I went to purgatory, too, which by the way isn’t fun. And limbo – and the other Hel, you know, H-E-L, and Irkalla, the Underworld, and even the freakin’ Island of Chronos. So, a horny freakishly old dude and a very grumpy Siphon-Witch-Bitch is nothing compared to what a yellow-eyed demon _and_ Lucifer did to me, okay? I-I-I can handle it.” Stiles watched her fake that confidence but stuttered at the end of her little rant and she swallowed and looked away, then started to dip her fingers into the blood and attempt to reach the wounds on her back and shoulder.

“Let me.” He ordered, gently taking the cup of weird blood from her hands. He felt weird, but surprisingly not grossed out as he dipped his fingers into the liquid, and started to gently rub it on the gashes on her back that looked like it was from a whip.

“So, um…my mom.” He changed the subject back to her, his mind still trying to wrap around that bit of information – nevermind the fact that this Siphoner couple _and_ his own not-dead mother thinks he is apart of some special prophecy – and he just tried to focus on one thing at a time. “Where is she now? And did…did she really spend all those years with you in other timelines?”

“She’s alive, last I heard.” She spoke quietly, wincing every once in awhile as he touched her injuries. It was sad how calm they were in a situation like this, he realized suddenly. “We were stuck in the last timeline we were in, and most of the pack were…gone. We were there for about 70 years, and we tried to live normal lives. I…I got married, and his little sister has always been like a daughter to both of us, and we raised her to be this beautiful, independent, young woman. And I grew old with the love of my life, and Claudia became like a grandma to Amelia, and things between us were…perfect.”

“What happened?” He asked, positioning himself to face the front of her. He quietly asked if he had permission to continue, and she nodded as she let him place the blood on the wounds on her chest, neck, and abdomen.

“Then…The Doctor happened.” She gulped, “The doorbell rang, I opened it, and next thing I know he’s holding Amelia’s head. _Just_ her head. And he comes in, guns blazing, and Cody, Claudia, and I are old and tired. We’re just about to tell him to just shoot us…and next thing I know, there is a blinding white light, and we wake up in a New York City apartment back in the original timeline, and back in our original, young bodies. And Amelia is six again, as if she never grew up, and she didn’t even remember anything…”

She trailed off, silence filling the room as she licked her dry lips and looked away for a moment, clear tears streaming down her face now, instead of glowing ones. “We were in timeline after timeline for 155 years. We were tired of fighting, y’know? So Cody and I ran with Amelia to Wichita, Kansas, and we got a mortgage and a little house on a farm, and Claudia ran off to find Richard Gordon.”

“Was my mom the last person to see that private investigator alive?”

She shrugged, then cringed. “I think Claudia and Gordon were working together for a while and met a psychic they trusted. But I know the hunters didn’t get to her, because after Gordon’s death, I got an e-mail from her. It was pretty vague, but she did say she was fine and that she still had things to do, and I’m pretty sure it had to do with the witch…because I know that, even though you knowing she’s alive doesn’t change anything, you _seeing_ her does. Apparently, the witch that she made a deal with her had placed a curse on her, so if she shows up something bad will happen, which I have no idea what. And…now it makes sense. The witch used some really ancient black magic, so that is why you appear human. I mean, I can still sense your energy…but that won't draw your powers out. Not yet, at least. It will take a lot.”

Stiles froze for a moment, his hand over one of her deep gashes before he forced himself to focus on her wounds instead of her words. But he couldn’t. He hated the thought of having powers – and yet, he always hated the thought of feeling weak. But what he hated more was knowing that his mother was alive, and not being able to do anything about it. And, what happens when he goes home and faces his dad? How is he supposed to keep a secret like _this_ from him?

“Everything she did…was for you.” She grew quiet as he finished up and sat up straight, then placed the cup on the dresser. She handed him the towel, and he wiped his hands then watched as she grabbed some bandages from the drawer. He was surprised that the Siphoner actually allowed her to patch herself up.

His heart sank as he watched her movements like she’s done this a thousand times, and he knew that she probably had. It killed him inside, and it hurt even worse as he realized that he was now in her exact same situation.

“Hey…don’t tell Elena or Tobias about how I make the blue blood…okay?” She begged, looking up with big blue eyes.

He nodded. “Of course.”

She gave a small smile before returning back to her task, “My blood, tears, and even my freaking Cortisol are kind of, um, powerful…so I would rather not them know about it. It’s just…hard to hold back sometimes. I mean, the tears only glow if I’m in pain, and, well…”

“I understand.” He said quickly, not wanting to hear the word ‘torture’ because the thought that he was going to be tortured eventually scared the shit out of him.

And yet, right now he just couldn’t wrap his head around everything he just learned, so excuse him if Immortal Siphoners and escaping this attic was not at the top of his mind.

Even though it should be.

But, he was still having a hard time accepting and…well, adjusting.

He’s a Special Child. A _Divergent._ A Warper – whatever that is. In other words, he’s not human and he has freaky mutant powers of who knows what, and he was just afraid to ask Kaia.

And his mother is alive and cursed by a witch.

And he was going to be tortured.

And he was stuck in an attic guarded by magic with a girl he’s not only had sex with but is hopelessly falling for even though she just admitted she is not only married but has a kid…well, technically.

Wait.

“What happened to your husband?” He suddenly asked, remembering that little event in the boy’s locker room.

“Um…” She trailed off, and for a long moment, Stiles thought she wasn’t going to answer.

But then, as she finished wrapping herself up, she did.

“Turns out when whatever thing shoved us back into our timeline, it let out a couple demons, so a demon named Alistair burned down the house and killed…um…” She gulped, “He killed her. And Cody blamed me for her death and left me there to die. So, I think it is safe to say we are very much separated.”

“Oh.” For the fifth time today, that was all he could say. Because Kaia definitely had a way of surprising him with a lot of information at once.

“I’m sorry.” He finally whispered.

“It’s fine. Amelia…she lived a long and happy life, and…and it hurts to…” She stopped, closing her eyes for a moment, “I guess sometimes you still don’t know someone, even after 70 years of marriage.” She said instead, and it sounded weird coming from the body of a seventeen-year-old.

“Yeah…” He trailed off, though not understanding one bit, “Guess so.”

She sighed, stood up, then placed the rest of the things back in the drawer.

“He was the first person Tobias tried to use on me to…you know…um, excite…when I was first kidnapped.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together, suddenly remembering the little act Elena used on him.

“The first?”

“Yeah, well, then reason hit me and I realized I’m beyond pissed at Cody for not only leaving me tied to a chair surrounded by fire, but blaming me for my own daughter’s death, and then he re-did that little hypnotizing spell and, er, sadly…succeeded the second time around.”

He gulped.

“And…who…?” He trailed off, “You don’t have to—”

“Oh, it was you.” She said rather bluntly, making his cheeks burn red, “Who did you see? Or are we not playing 21 questions anymore?”

“Um…” He bit his lip. He wasn’t as blunt as her.

“You.” His voice went high, and he turned back around, cleared his throat, and started to look through the drawers so he had something to do.

“Good.” She said simply as if this awkward conversation was the only thing to satisfy her while she was held hostage in a freaking attic. But then, of course, he realized that was followed by sarcasm. “Because this won’t be awkward at all.”

He could only give a small, fake, laugh, and watched as she slowly stood up and headed to the window.

He sighed and sat down on the bed. He was going to have to save for a proper freak-out later because right now they really needed to figure out how to get the hell out of here.

“So, what can you tell me about Siphoners?” He asked, hoping to get some information on their weaknesses.

And hopefully, some idea if his little letter will do the trick.


	6. Chapter 6

The next several hours were unlike the others. They weren’t filled with conversations and lullabies and stories, but rather taunting and pain and cursing. Stiles had his wrists handcuffed over the loop of a rope that was holding him up from the ceiling. He just dangled there, his head hung low as he breathed heavily through the searing pain in his torso.

Next to him was Kaia, lying on the dirty bed. Elena had just waltz right in, snapped her fingers, and watched with pleasure as the springs inside the bed magically slithered out like snakes, wrapping around her wrists, neck, and ankles, crawling up her entire body and wrapping so tightly that it dug into her skin, looking like it could dig into her bones and cut off her limbs.

“Silly girl,” Elena cooed, a giggle escaping her lips as she looked at Kaia struggle beneath the spring’s grasps, “You see I’m working here, and yet you still continue to piss me off. I mean, after all that you’ve been through –years of being strapped to a table being experimented on, a century and a half being on the run, and even being tormented and tortured by Lucifer himself…” She looked over at Stiles, an amused smile plastered on her face, “You would think she would learn by now.”

“How the hell do you know about that?” She spat out, venom dripping from every word as the springs held on tighter and another scream of pain escaped her lips.

“Oh, my, dear!” Elena called out, laughter ringing from her voice, “The prophecies, of course!”

She looked at her oddly, as if that amount of information wasn’t in the prophecies last she had checked, but instead of saying anything the springs dug deeper into her skin and she threw her head back and screamed once more.

“Stop!” He yelled panic in his voice as Elena’s bright green eyes whipped towards him.

“Oh, you want me to stop?” She smiled, flicking her hand as he heard Kaia scream louder. He couldn’t see, though, as Elena’s hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look into her eyes.

“Now, where were we?” She asked herself, pulling away and bringing up the bloody knife up with a sparkle in her eyes, “Oh, right.” She giggled, dragging the blade down his chest as his eyes widened and pain shot through his body. She leaned closer, her breath against his torso. “Oh, Stiles, you wasted so much power, so much _potential_ that you don’t deserve.” She brought up the blade again, creating another cut over his already bleeding one, and he bit down on his lip and stifled a groan, his eyes slamming closed as he tried to breathe through the pain. He didn’t understand how just hours ago, he was safe in school – and now, he was locked in this bitch’s attic.

“I’ll stop, you know.” She tilted her head a little, “I’ll stop. This whole thing can be over if you just give me your power – and you can just go home and go back to being the human one. I mean…do you really think you can handle the power, once it emerges? After being buried for so long because your poor bitch of a mother asked a witch to _bury your power_.”

“Shut up.” He spat, but she just continued.

“Stop holding back, Stiles.” She taunted, “Do you really think that, when the powers of The Warper show up, that you can handle it? Do you honestly believe you won’t end up hurting someone or _killing_ someone – like your precious pack? Your father? You, and your pathetic little panic attacks, and you’ll end up bringing the whole building down around you. One little mistake, and that’s all it takes – never mind the fact that people all over the world will forever be looking for you, using your friends as leverage.” She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing at the younger teen, “But if you give me your power, they’ll be safe. Don’t you want that?”

“Stiles…don’t listen to her.”

Elena didn’t say anything, and she just lifted her hand and flicked her wrist as Kaia suddenly started to choke, gasping for air as if an invisible hand was wrapped around her throat. Stiles' eyes widened as he looked over, then glared daggers at the Siphoner.

“ _Let. Her. Go!_ ” He yelled, knowing it wouldn’t do anything. He knew that it was only going to make her angrier, and next time she wasn’t going to torture him while Kaia was in the room – and he knew that would be worse. He knew he wouldn’t handle hearing her screams – and then the silence that would follow. He hated it already, even though he could turn and see to make sure she was OK – or, at least alive.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill her.” She giggled, dropping her hand as Kaia finally sucked in air, “I need The Travelers’ power too….and The True Alpha.”

Stiles face dropped. He had almost forgotten about that. He wasn’t sure why – he was too busy freaking about his mom and the fact that everyone thinks he’s not human – which he still believes everyone is nuts. He forgot about Scott, and maybe that’s because he was used to him being ‘The one’. The Alpha. The Leader. The _True_ Alpha.

“Don’t you dare.” He growled, but she only laughed in his face, turning to grab a bowl as she placed it under him. She eyed his body – his shirt, which was covered his holes and blood – and wondered where to cut, before slicing open another gaping hole in his chest. He screamed out in pain, feeling the blood trickle down and drip into the bowl as Elena just laughed in amusement.

“You…son of a bitch.” Kaia groaned out in agony, “If you’ve heard the prophecies, then you should know that I don’t do well when you mess with the people I care about – and _when_ we get out of here, I’ll show you no mercy, you pathetic little witch wannabe—”

“Oh, don’t fret.” She cooed as she walked closer, grabbing two other bowls. She waved a hand as the springs forced her wrist to hang over the bed, then set the bowls down directly under as she placed the blade over her wrist and felt it create a deep gash as blood began to pour out. She winced, her eyes slamming closed as a glowing tear escaped and made Elena squeal in excitement, before kneeling over and catching it with her finger. She examined it with a scientific-like excitement, before slipping it into a vial and pocketing it.

“Well, what a productive day.” She licked her lips and smiled, then gave a little shrug as she then started to head down the four steps and out the door. It slammed and locked shut behind her, just as the bowls full of blood disappeared, as well as the handcuffs and rope, while the bed springs slithered back into the mattress and disappeared.

Stiles fell to the floor with a loud _thump._ He felt dizzy and weak, and his entire body screamed in pain as he held his hand to the bigger gash on his stomach. He stifled a groan, then slowly and weakly sat up straighter as he slid off his shirt – the thread pulling and tugging at his skin painfully – then formed a ball as he pressed it against his wound.

It felt like forever until he managed to find enough strength to get up, and when he did he realized that Kaia was no longer conscious. His heart sank as he saw the slits on her wrists still dripping on the floor even though it was healing painfully slow.

“Kaia.” He whispered under his breath as he crawled towards her, looking around until he reached the dresser and opened all the drawers until he found some socks. He pulled a pair out then tied one on her wrist, hoping that the pressure would stop the bleeding for now, then slowly and weakly tried to crawl to the other side. The searing pain made his body throb, and the shirt he was using to stop the bleeding was now completely soaked. He felt nauseous with every step but seeing Kaia’s pale skin only made his heart pound faster, sending adrenaline through his body and pushing him forward, even though it only made his blood pump and bleed faster. He finally made it to her other side, then managed to tie the cloth around her gash before finally collapsing on the hard floor.

Slowly, he felt himself drift into unconsciousness.

0o0o0o0o

The next time Stiles woke up, it was to Kaia shaking him awake. A groan was the first thing that came out of his mouth, followed by an unintelligible complaint under his breath as he sat up straighter and looked at Kaia through squinted, blurry, eyes.

“Son of a sin, you scared me.” She muttered as she gripped his shoulders and forced him to sit up. He moaned as he felt another wave of pain through his body and leaned back against the wall.

“Son of a sin?” He couldn’t help himself. It was just an odd phrase.

“Shut up.” She retorted, lifting the soaked scrunched up shirt to look at his wounds.

“At least buy me dinner first.”

“Are you always this quick-witted after torture?” She wondered, shaking her head. He could now see the glowing veins move down her arms, and the pain began to fade. He sighed with relief, his head falling back and his eyes closing as he tried not to take this feeling for granted.

“Only when people wake me up.”

“To be fair, you were lying in your own puddle of blood. I thought she killed you.”

“I thought she doesn’t want us dead?”

“She doesn’t.” She sighed, finding a more comfortable spot on the ground. But, as she leaned against the bed, it was like last night’s memories came flooding in, and she flinched and instantly sat next to him against the wall instead, still holding onto him to take his pain. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t bring us back to life. I mean...it makes the whole process longer, but still.” She frowned, then reached for a cup of blue blood.

“No – it’s fine. You use it.” He shook his head, then moved his arm away from her blue veins. He didn’t want her to have to only take care of him when she was injured too.

“I’ll heal.”

“Uh, yeah, real slowly.” He agreed, but he still had a point, “You almost bled to death!”

“So did you!”

“OK, OK,” He shook his head, waving a hand around even though it hurt, “But still – I’m fine.”

“Oh, really?” She looked behind him, motioning towards the puddle of blood that was still wet. He looked over and frowned, then looked down at his wound that only continued to bleed when he moved. It was like a wide gaping hole, and he felt weak and tired. Never mind the fact that it hurt like a bitch.

And, as he looked over at Kaia, he could see that most of her wounds were at least somewhat closed now, and even though she wasn’t necessarily out of the woods yet, his injuries were far more severe.

“Fine.” He huffed, “But you can’t keep rubbing your blood all over me just because I got a couple scratches.”

“First of all,” She glared at him, “try ‘gashes’. You basically have a hole in your stomach.”

He frowned.

“And second of all?”

“Second of all…” She trailed off, looking almost guilty, “This isn’t going on your wounds. I need you to drink it.”

His eyes widened, and instinctively he backed up even though it sent a wave of more pain.

“Drink it?!”

“You have too many wounds, so this is the best option. Now, don’t make me shove it down your throat.”

“But—”

“Stiles, damn it.” She growled, eyes flashing. Only this time, instead of blue like he saw when she was crying, they were purple, blue, black, and had specs of white. Like…a galaxy. “I promised your mom, okay? And you need to live long enough to see her again, or else she will kill me. Probably literally…I never know with her.” She frowned, her eyebrows scrunching together as she brought the cup closer, and he sighed at the reminder. He almost forgot, since waking up, that his mom was apparently alive.

Still, the mere mention of her made his heart sink.

“Fine.” He grabbed the cup hesitantly, bringing it to his lips before pausing, “Are you going to watch?”

She rolled her eyes and started to stand up, “Oh, my god.” She mumbled, then walked to the center of the room and stopped, looking as if she was trying to think. He sighed as he looked down at the glowing liquid, then hesitantly started to drink.

When he was finished, he set the cup down, licked his lips, and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why did that taste…kind of sweet. Like…almost like fruit.” He wondered out loud. It was a genuine question, but she just shrugged and sighed as she continued to think.

“I noticed that when Elena and Tobias took me to school, they would place a spell on me where I can’t communicate with anyone else about this. Obviously, come Monday, she’s going to take some more precautions, but…we aren’t under the spell here, right? Because we can talk freely…”

“Yeah.” He sighed as he started to stand up, looking down at himself and realizing his shirt in his hand was soaked in blood in its’ entirety, as well as Kaia’s. There basically wasn’t a single spot that was clean. He gulped, suddenly feeling weird that he was standing in front of her without a shirt, and he watched for a moment as his wounds slowly began to heal.

Sighing once again, he started to slowly walk to the dresser and pull out some clothes: a plain t-shirt and some jeans his size – then set them aside as he frowned at Kaia.

“It’s not like we have a phone. We can’t call the pack.”

“Not through normal means.” She turned to him, “I think I have an idea, but…I’m not sure how much you’ll like it.”

He frowned, about to sit down to let himself process whatever plan she had, but then quickly decided against it as he set the clothes down on the dresser and moved away, his hands firmly crossing his chest and sending only a dull pain through his body.

“I’m all ears.” He said, realizing that for the first time ever – someone _else_ was coming up with the plans.

She gave a small smile, then started to tell him the plan.


End file.
